My Marvelous Misadventure
by MaoIsSleepy
Summary: Not that I'm so organized to have my schedule memorized, but I'm pretty sure that dying, getting transferred to another universe that I happen to know the future of, and saving said world multiple times was NOT on it. And I don't think I need to double check. Oc
1. My Life (Is Cut Short)

**Disclaimer: I do not own Yu Yu Hakusho…**

**Please excuse any typos or grammatical error! There will be a lot!**

**Thank you for checking out this story! I really hope you grow to love it as much as I do!**

***Has been edited as of June of 2016.**

**Thanks for reading!**

* * *

I was a bitch when I died; there's really no other way of saying it.

I'm sorry if that's not the poetic masterpiece you were expecting from me. It must be disappointing that I wasn't a saint and that people wouldn't mourn my selfless nature. It must be disappointing that I wasn't like other teenagers who pass before their life really starts.

But my death was disappointing like that, too.

Oh, how I wish I could say I died for a good cause, like selflessly jumping in front of my best friend as someone shot at him, or getting hit by a car whilst saving an injured puppy.

Oh no. I died in a way that was so ridiculous, so strange, so... Impossible that no one could ever really figure out how it all had happened.

Now, I could just save myself the embarrassment of telling you what happened, but I decided that at least one person should know how I really departed from the world of the living. Listen up, because I'm only saying this once - and I mean it.

* * *

I woke up late that morning at seven instead of six, which was when I had, accidentally, set my alarm. I was literally jumping out of bed and peeling off my sleeping clothes before I even got to the bathroom.

I skipped my scheduled mirror check, lacking the time, and, frankly, the preparation to examine my reflection, and then I grabbed my toothbrush and tuned the shower in on hot. I hated brushing my teeth in the shower, mostly because my spit always got all over my chest, but I didn't really have many options.

I was usually running late, but more often than not that was due to my sluggish routine of getting dressed rather than sleeping in.

When I finished shampooing and conditioning, I flung the curtain open so fast that one of the rings got caught, causing the shower bar to collapse in on itself with a crash. Wet, cold, and naked, I decided to leave it until that night when I had more spare time.

Of course, I'd also forgotten to flick the fan on, so the bathroom mirror was fogged up. My towels were wadded up in moist balls on the tile floor. I grabbed a dirty one, returned to my room, and promptly banged my head against the wall in frustration - I couldn't find anything to wear, despite my mountain of clothes that over-filled my walk-in closet.

I ended wearing a grey t-shirt, a black athletic jacket, and black leggings that I'd worn every other day that week - and don't tell anyone that, because the only one who noticed was my mom when she saw the lack of jeans in my laundry. I could still pull a couple more wears out of my ass yet.

I spent the majority of my time on my make-up, which was not a work of art in the slightest, and the rest on my hair, which I was forced to knot in a messy bun due to an extreme lack of cooperation.

At the time when I was finally down the stairs, I saw my mum pull out of the driveway, at an illegal speed, and roll off, the slush and snow crunching under her tires. I noticed quite bitterly that the only thing she left me for breakfast was a dirty plate and an empty glass of milk, so I grabbed a granola bar and prayed it would tide me over until lunch. I smacked on my winter boots and hopped to the door, momentarily leaving my backpack and duffle bag in our mudroom. I braced myself before heading out in the barren winter wasteland of my front yard, hurrying to our separated garage-shed. The snow was old, but my family almost never shoveled our sidewalks, so I was forced to muddle through thick snow.

I flung the shed door open so quickly that I didn't stop to think about Calcifer - my sister's cat. He was huddled behind the door, as he often did, and I stepped on his tail. He hissed and completely shredded my leg, until he contacted bone (warning: slight exaggeration).

"Stupid cat!" I wailed, flinging him off with a kick. He just hissed again and recuperated behind our freezer. My sister, Eydie, was the one who had begged our mum to get a cat, under the condition that she'd take care of him, and she promised she would - But of course, that meant that I'd take care of him. Eydie hardly ever fed the poor thing, and she never cleaned his litter box. And despite the glaring fact that I was the one who took care of him, he totally hated me. What a little ingrate.

I fed Calcifer less than the recommended amount, noting how fat and heavy he was becoming recently. Mum gave him daily afternoon treats during her lunch hour.

I checked my phone, swore because it was already a quarter-to eight, and ran back inside to grab my bags. When I ran up my driveway, the bus was already pulling out. Thankfully my waving and screaming caught the driver's attention and the next thing I knew, I was on my way to school.

Well? _Obviously, _I knew something important was going to happen that day. Obviously.

* * *

School was the same as always. Just regular, senior classes. Focusing on my first three had been a struggle once more, and the day was hardly half over.

Lunch was bearable, but I somehow managed to get three-fourths of my food on my jacket.

Lizzie and Tye, my friends, often teased me about my clumsiness.

"I'll bring Sarah's bib tomorrow," Lizzie jokingly promised, pointing her fork at the stain on my sleeve. Sarah was her two year old sister, who had the same frizzy red hair and freckles. I made a face at Lizzie to show my lack of appreciation for the dig.

Tye took a giant bite of his sandwich, mayo oozing out the sides of his mouth.

"Are you coming over today?" He asked with his mouth full.

"After practice," I confirmed. Tye and I were practically neighbors, what with only living two houses away. We'd been friends as long as I could remember. A couple of times a week, I went over to his house to play one on one, since he had a hoop in his driveway. I had one in our garage, but it was always full of cars.

In addition, stepping on Calcifer was a regular occurrence, and there was no way he wouldn't try and attack my ankles. Several times, I've tried to take giant leaps away from him so I wouldn't hurt him, only to have him dart in the wrong direction and right under my foot. I broke his foreleg once, and Eydie still hadn't forgiven me, even when I explained to her that it was his own fault.

Sometimes accidents happened.

I had gym last block, so I changed into loose basketball clothes.

Our P.E. teacher was the head football coach, Couch Lure, and was well respected. He understood how to differently push the kids in sports and the kids who didn't think athletics were their cup of tea. He gave equal attention to both.

After a few laps and light lifting, the students all waited in line for the final test in our current unit - archery. That's how our P.E. class was structured; light workouts in the first half of the block, then fun and informational lessons in a number of common sports. Last week had been badminton.

Normally, with these unit tests every week, Coach Lure couldn't grade by skill. However, archery didn't require a lot of strength, just technique and practice, so that was all we were tested on.

We were tasked with shooting along each target line in order, on the target, on until a bullseye, and then we worked our way back. We went as far as we could, and we were only allowed three misses.

I was one of four who made it to a three on my way back, which tied me for second. Not that it was a competition, but it's something all students keep track of for bragging rights. And, okay, I was a little competitive.

Lizzie, who was in the class with me, made it all the way back to one.

"Just don't overdraw," she instructed me after I retreated from the line. I was happy with how I did, but I felt like my three misses were rookie mistakes. I had just rushed, and I was kicking myself for it.

"Yeah, yeah, I hear you, Robin Hood," I playfully punched her in the arm. Lizzie moved here in our fifth year, but it felt like she had been with me at birth. We did everything together, except for sports. She played tennis.

The bell rang and I stayed behind in the gym.

"See you tomorrow," Lizzie waved to me, making her way to the locker room.

* * *

"What the hell are you doing, Faye?" Coach Thundermen barked. Our playing abruptly came to a stop.

Thundermen's hands were bigger than my head, and his neck was bulging like it always did when he was pissed. At me. Like usual.

"Get your ass over here!" he spewed at me. Scowling, I bounced the ball in my hands to a wing, Erika. She held onto it for me, sniggering.

"What do you think you're doing out there?" Thundermen thundered. So much for calling me over for privacy. "We've been scrimmaging for twenty minutes and you haven't once ran the play right. If I see you shoot one more time when you could have passed it, your ass will hit the bench so hard that you'll have to ice it!"

"Well, it's Rachel's fault for not screening! Candy can get right back on Paige, so giving her the balls an automatic turnover! You know she can't dribble!" I spat. Don't get me wrong, I liked those girls ninety percent of the time, but I didn't like losing. Not even a scrimmage. Thundermen's scowl deepened and his face grew red.

"I don't want your weak-ass excuses! You're smart, Faye, so use your fucking head!" He slapped his board. "Now get back there and actually run the play for once, Hotshot!"

Grumbling, I went back to the top of the key and signaled Erika for the ball back. She was reluctant, but passed it back nonetheless. We butted heads sometimes, her and I, since we both played the same position.

As point guard, I was quite happy to control where the ball went. But then I also felt frustrated because I couldn't really do much down low - because of this, I had been reluctant to try out for the position. However, seeing Erika's face get red inspired me to do it, and to give it my all. She had been so pissed at me. It was hilarious.

Practice was over early because half the team had a choir concert that night. I wasn't in choir because I sang like a dying cat, so I went straight to Tye's. As I approached his house, I noticed him the driveway. He greeted me with a jerk of his head. I finally got close enough to see the pavement over the hill of snow: Well, actually I didn't see pavement.

I groaned. "It snowed during school?"

"Yep," Tye deadpanned, hefting snow with his shovel. He must have just started because he wasn't even halfway done. "We might need to play in a little more than sweatpants. Like maybe our boots," he joked, transferring white dust to his covered yard from his partially covered driveway.

"Still wanna play later?" I inquired. We've played through worse, but it was getting kind of dark. Tye took a break and eyed the setting sun.

"Probably shouldn't. Either way, it's my turn on the chore list," he grumbled. He had two younger and two older siblings, and their mom used an organized list to make sure chores actually got done without fights. It was quite the rowdy house, if you can imagine, what with five growing boys.

"I'll go get my shovel," I offered, already making my way across our neighbor's sidewalk. He nodded in thanks and returned to his digging. I headed straight into my garage, dropping my bags inside immediately because they got rather heavy.

And I forgot about Calcifer. Again.

My shoe bag hit him in his face, and he recoiled with a vicious, self-preserving hiss. He darted for the door, his pure white fur disappearing against the snow.

"Shit!" I stumbled, nearly tripping over him. I felt the slap of wind hit me in my face as I dashed back outside, looking left and right. I saw Tye pause his shoveling in curiosity.

"Sorry, Tye!" I shouted "Calcifer got out again. Eydie will throw a tantrum if I don't find him!"

"That's fine, I don't think I'll need help this time," he answered.

I circled my house, but he wasn't under the porch, where he usually hid when he managed to get out. I sighed in defeat. It wasn't my fault Calcifer had gotten hit, but he wouldn't have aimed for escape outside if it was anyone other than me. Eydie would cry for days and scream about how much she hated me. She really needed to grow up one of these days; she was already nine.

I was just giving up and about to retrieve my bags when I suddenly realized what an idiot I could be sometimes. It had literally just snowed. Calcifer had left tracks in the snow, leading in the opposite direction of Tye. I made sure to lock the garage, and took off after the path.

* * *

"Great," I muttered, kicking an empty beer can out of my path. I was in my favorite part of town, where homeless men smoked cigarettes in alleyways and colorful women exposed too much skin, especially now, when it was snowing. I was surprised that I hadn't lost Calcifer's prints yet, since I had wasted so much time checking around my porch. It could have easily been disrupted.

Unfortunately, it was too good to last. The tracks took a turn down an alley that was wind blocked. The only snow that was noticeable dusted the ground like sugar. I could just barely make out little paw prints, but I didn't follow them.

A woman, who was hardly any older than I was, took leisurely, swaying steps in my direction. Her legs were only shielded by black nylons and blue stilettos, and a blue dress squeezed her waist so tightly that I could see her jutted hip bones through her light coat.

She couldn't have been older than nineteen, a year older than me, but the ridiculous amount of makeup she donned made her appear twenty-five or twenty-six at first glance. Her dark, smooth skin was splattered with glitter and eyeliner, but it was messily smudged. Her thick lips were coated in red, and her black hair was pulled back in a high ponytail. One of her hands was in her pocket, and the other held a cigarette.

Her profession wasn't hard to guess.

Standing there like a shocked, naïve little girl, I stared at her. Her blue eyes were clear and vibrant, and they stunningly stood out against her dark skin. She was glaring straight at me, and her gait turned purposeful.

I turned around and backed out of the alleyway, not caring if Calcifer was ever found again.

Hopefully, I hadn't appeared as intimidated as I felt. I didn't do intimidation.

I was three steps away from the bridge when it happened.

Okay, guys, pay attention.

See, the bridge, Helena's Bridge, wasn't very big. It drops maybe about thirty feet into three feet of water, which is about as deep as Helena's River ever got. That was why, even in this side of town, no one really jumped off of it to commit suicide. It would be way too painful, and it would probably fail. The bridge was supported by foot-wide pillars, a favorite sleeping spot for many a homeless man. You could stay protected and hidden, which was ideal. Everything is white in the winter, since the black iron of the railing is covered in snow, and the gray stone is washed out.

The bridge was back the way I had come, since I'd already crossed it in my search for the demon cat. And I had to cross it again to get home.

If I had been just three steps farther onto the bridge, where the railing was high and secure instead of just starting, nothing would have happened to me, besides maybe a scraped knee and a sore head.

Well, here goes.

Calcifer, it seemed, had taken the same path as I had. That is to say, he'd started up that alleyway and had turned back onto the bridge. I didn't think a glaring prostitute would have scared him, so he must have just smelled something foul.

But I didn't know this, nor did I expect it. I had stopped paying attention to the ground, since I was no longer following his tracks, and hadn't noticed the second pair of tracks.

And maybe if I hadn't given up the search, I would have noticed him there on the bridge. But I guess karma works like that, doesn't it?

But I hadn't really done anything to deserve this.

For maybe the hundredth time, I stepped on Calcifer's bushy white tail. And for maybe the hundredth time, he freaked out and attacked my legs. But out there, in the wide open, where I had never thought he would be, I couldn't form the thought, 'It's just the stupid cat'. No, for whatever reason, I freaked out as well.

I swore again, jumping away, my heel coming down on the sidewalk… or something else. Immediately, I lost my balance, realizing from a tinging and scraping sound that it was the beer can I had kicked earlier. I fell onto my back, but I didn't land. I felt my legs and feet swing over my head, and suddenly I was wrong-side up, wind rushing past my ears to the point where they popped. I was falling, right where the bridge began, where there was no railing. Stupid contractors.

In a panic, I shot my arms out. By mere luck my hand caught hold of a supporting beam from underneath, which had many corners and crevasses. My arm was nearly jerked out of its socket as my feet returned to being underneath me. I was swinging back and forth, and my heart was pounding so quickly that it hurt. I let out a cry of help, and kept crying. The incoming footsteps didn't register in my brain.

I attempted to save myself.

I strained my muscles and tried to pull myself up. The snow froze my finger, making them go numb and messing with my grip. I readjusted my grip.

Okay, so animals never really liked me. I couldn't tell you why, but maybe it was because I wasn't very careful around them. When I had readjusted my grip, I accidently squashed something soft, smooth, cold, and slick. Pain erupted in my wrist, and I screamed again, the fear making it hurt even worse. My hand was on fire.

I let go with my first hand, cradling it to my chest. It took several, arm tearing swings of my body to tell me that I shouldn't have done that. My second hand slipped.

Everything before had happened so quickly that I could hardly understand what was happening, but as I fell for real, time seemed to slow down.

'This can't be happening', I thought. I stared up at the bridge as it slowly drifted farther and farther away. At least I hadn't fallen with my face down, because I don't think I could've handled watching the water get closer.

My eyes were blurry from tears and fear, but a strange flash of color held their focus. The last thing I ever saw was blue, blue eyes staring at me in shock from up on the bridge.

Then everything was white and cold.

* * *

**I know guys, why am I starting ANOTHER FREAKING FANFIC WHEN I HAVE SO MANY OTHERS?!**

**I can't tell you, I just do it, despite all logic.**

**I'm super excited about this, and just so you know I love reviews. ;)**

**I'm sorry if she's a Mary-sue! I do plan on developing her until I can hide that fact really well. Hopefully, I'll get some dark undertones in and, hopefully, this really takes off. I really like my oc here, even though I purposely made her a cocky, overconfident 'hotshot'. I do plan to develop her of course, just stick with it!**

**~Mao**


	2. The Grim Reaper (Is a Teenage Girl)

**Disclaimer: I do not own Yu Yu Hakusho.**

***Has been edited as of June of 2016.**

* * *

It took me a while to actually figure out I was dead. I was just floating there in the sky, dreaming about being able to fly and doing acrobatics - weightless somersaults, precarious flips, and the like. I was enjoying the lack of coldness; it was winter, and I couldn't feel anything at all. Overall, I was in a good mood.

Then I made the mistake of looking below me and into Helena's River. A blonde girl was floating in the water on her back, her blue eyes wide and glassy, like a doll's. Her hair was was partially tied back, but locks of it spiraled around her face like a halo.

I screamed.

'What the hell?'

I 'flew' down to get a closer look. "That's… me?" I grabbed my head… well, my spirit head…

"I'm dead!" I shrieked. I slapped my body in the face. "Wake up!" My hand phased through it like it was a hologram. I stared at it in shock.

Suddenly I felt cold again, and my form began to tremble. I brushed my hand through the girl's body again, this time at a slower pace. The results were the same. Suddenly my eyes were stinging and my sight blurred. I didn't think ghosts could cry and actually produce tears, but that didn't mean my body didn't automatically recall the muscular aspect of the action.

At one point in time, minutes, maybe hours later, the coldness turned to numbness, and I could no longer produce a coherent thought.

Once the sun finally began to set, a terrible sense of curiosity somehow managed to fend off the numbness. I just had to see what had happened back on the top of the bridge, no matter what mental state it would leave me in.

What was the worst that could happen? I'd feel suicidal?

Maneuvering through the air wasn't as exciting or as freeing as it had been before my memories kicked in. There was no rushing wind, and my stomach didn't feel like flipping. It felt detaching, like I was invading a world I didn't belong to anymore, or watching from a screen.

There were traces of my footprints in the dust of snow, but they were illegible, nothing more than strange disturbances in an otherwise untouched setting. The beer can, in its silver and blue glory, was caved in on one side. It was several feet from where I actually stepped on it, indicating that it slide out from underneath my foot when I tipped to the side. Calcifer was nowhere to be seen, and the majority of his tracks were hidden under fresh snow. I began trying to suck in air, but it was impossible to do without lungs. I didn't feel like I was suffocating, but the sensation was uncomfortable, and I wanted it to go back to normal more than anything else.

I wasn't sure how long it took me to recover, but when I did, the only thing on my mind was the bridge's supporting beam - the one I had grabbed onto in my last moments. I maneuvered back down from the sky, following the trajectory of my fall so that I would find the right beam. I needed to know what had pierced my skin - or, rather, what had made me let go. I floated closer, seeing a coil of brown, green, and black contrasted against the white beam.

It was a snake. A sleek, dark, hibernating Adder, pretty much the only venomous snake in England.

I laughed. It was one of those painful laughs that made your chest sting and eyes water, or in my case, feel like they were. I couldn't control the sensation, and my stomach began to feel sore from the abuse.

'A Freaking snake! I would have been fine if it was any other beam!' A snake, in winter, just happened to be asleep on the very beam I grabbed ahold of. I was laughing, but really, I was royally pissed off, my despair from before suddenly transmuting to cynical rage. And still, I laughed.

"I can't say that's the popular reaction," said a bemused voice. I jumped, swiveling around in shock. A voice? There was no one behind me on the bridge, which confused me greatly. I could have sworn I had heard someone nearby. There weren't any new footprints, either.

"Hello!"

This time, I rapidly floated away, scared and tense. Again, there was no one in sight. I glanced down one side of the bridge, and then the other, but to no avail. Puzzled and frightened, I slowly backed away, still getting used to the flying.

Unexpectedly, I backed into something else that was flying in the air, and I swear, if I wasn't a ghost, I would have had a heart attack. I gasped and flung myself back over the bridge, still levitating, rolling in the air in such a way that I could clearly see behind me.

The panic stopped the same time the confusion rolled in. Midair, seated on a large, black scythe, was a girl. Her curly brown hair was pinned to her head in a bun, and her grey eyes were framed by dark eyelashes. She wore a white, delicate robe that draped over one shoulder. It was encrusted with gold, which held the robe up. She reminded me of a Greek goddess. Her levitating scythe was the only thing that contradicted her theme. I could see my reflection in its head. Which, I noted, probably shouldn't be there, considering I was a ghost and all.

"No need to be afraid," the girl chuckled, hiding her white-toothed smile behind her cupped hand in a lady-like manner.

'She can see me? Is she a ghost, too?'

I glanced at the river below us, spotting only my empty shell in the distance. There wasn't anything else, besides trash and pollution. I peeked back up at the floating scythe.

'Why the hell does she have that thing?'

From the folds of her robes, the girl pulled out a tiny black book and flipped to a page marked with a ribbon. She held it to her nose.

"Gwyneth Faye, age eighteen, yes?" She peeked up at me.

"Um," I sputtered, "No, that's not me!" I backed away defensively. Denying her wasn't my brightest idea, but that floating scythe made me panic. I would've figured who she was if my brain wasn't so scrambled. At least, I got the picture.

'Who do I know visits dead people with a scythe?'

Was she here to take me away…Forever?

"Ah," she sighed, "now that's a more expected reaction." The book vanished into her sleeve again, and she casually placed her hands on her vehicle. "Hello, Gwyneth. My name is Charon, and I'm a driver of the River Styx."

I scowled at her, a little peeved at how she asked who I was when she knew all along.

Charon didn't particularly seem like a fitting name, as it wasn't as pretty and graceful as the girl before me, but it struck familiar chords in my head. I had definitely heard that name before.

Charon motioned to the river below, but I didn't look; I was sick of staring at my still body. "As you can see, you died."

"No shit," I cried, my patience running thin. You would think she had more tact, or a better way to approach this obviously sensitive topic. My heart began to hurt had her words, or at least where it was supposed to be, and suddenly the cold was back. I wasn't ready to hear those words yet.

"No need to be rude," the floating girl waved her hand at me. "After all, I'm here to do you a favor." I blinked at her in shock, not comprehending.

'A Favor? Wasn't she here to take me to Heaven? Doesn't that scythe mean she's the Grim Reaper?'

Charon pointed at my arm. "Well… Let me explain. See, we don't like snakes."

I examined my hand dumbly; the skin was unmarked, just as it had been that morning. Still, I was certain that I had been bitten by that snake when I was hanging off the bridge. A million questions ran through my mind. 'Was the venom what had killed me? Did I drown?'

The only one that managed to come to my lips was, "We?"

"As in, the rulers of the Underworld? Oh, come on. You have to know something about us," Charon exclaimed. She was answered with silence. "You know, Pluto?" Charon swung towards me in irritation. My confusion and lack of recognition seemed to get on her nerves. "Never-mind," she growled at me, brushing some loose curls from her eyes. "It's no surprise you haven't heard of us when Humanity has been declining at such a rate."

I frowned at her, not impressed. So far, Charon didn't seem like the celebrity she saw herself as. She was more of a whiny teenager.

"Sorry," I returned sarcastically, "my bad."

Charon leveled her gaze at me, as if she was feeling merciful and would let that one slide. "Yes, well, I'll get to the point. I am here to offer you a deal."

I blinked at her. You would think that, after a while, this kind of thing would stop surprising me. Dying? The Grim Reaper? Snakes? A planet-that-isn't-a-planet-anymore? That kind of stuff was overwhelming. But a deal with Charon, who wasn't here to take me to Heaven? That just didn't click.

"What is it?" I asked on autopilot. I know they say curiosity killed the cat, but my sense of curiosity made me braver than Calcifer, or any other cat for that matter. Ironically, it was my lack of curiosity that put me on Helena's bridge - so, curiousity would have saved the cat?

Charon appeared to be taken aback by my lack of fanfare. "I-," she cleared her throat and began again in her normal, authoritarian voice. "It's a chance to get your life back."

I froze, my eyes widening. My life? Maybe this whole thing was just a dream, because that sounded pretty impossible to me. Then again, I was a ghost. But the idea of going back to normal, of seeing my friends and family again, even of seeing Erika's pretty rich-girl face, was so enticing that I answered without hesitation. Suddenly, Charon's lack of tack, in which she told me I was dead, was extremely forgivable.

"We got a deal. What do I have to do?"

Charon chuckled behind her hand again, her eyes bemused. "First thing's first, Gwyneth," she addressed me in a condescending voice - though considering she was the 'Driver of the River Styx,' she was probably hundreds of years old, so I guess it was appropriate. I was probably an infant to her. However, since she only looked probably a year or two older than me, it was insulting.

I tried not to let it bother me, since she was my only hope to live again. The keyword was 'tried'.

Charon suddenly pointed into the distance. My forgetful mind followed her finger into the river to see a limp body slowly, but surely, drifting away with the current. Hey, I was being overwhelmed, so it's perfectly understandable that I forgot that the body was mine for a few seconds. Right?

"You need to make sure you actually have a body to return to," Charon said.

When it finally hit me that it was mine, and how much distance it had covered just in the time that Charon had appeared, I immediately cried out.

"Hey! Where are the police! Where's my mum?"

A surprisingly solid hand rested on my shoulder. "You've only been gone for about three hours, and your mom thinks you are desperately searching for your missing cat," Charon comforted me. "Your friend filled her in."

'Only three hours? That was all?'

"So, my body is rapidly floating away, and no one even knows that I'm dead?"

"Or missing."

"You're not helping." I pinched my nose at the formation of a headache. "So what happens if I'm never found?" I asked forebodingly, not sure if I wanted to hear the answer.

"Your body will probably rot and deteriorate to the point where your soul will be rejected. At that point, there's nothing I can do about your predicament, deal or no. It doesn't take much to ruin a body," she admitted. Bile burned the back of my throat. I suddenly felt very ill.

"So what should we do? I don't know about you, but I can't touch anything, let alone carry something. We can't just drag me to dry land, or a spot that I'll be easily seen."

Charon shook her head. "You're only hope is that you know someone with high Spirit Awareness."

"Spirit Awareness?" I echoed. I wasn't completely clueless as to what that meant, since it kind of self-explanatory, but I felt like I wasn't getting the whole concept. Did she mean a psychic? A medium? A fortune teller? Or was it simply someone who believed in ghosts? Lizzie was an avid believer, so maybe I could try and send her a message from beyond, but how? I turned to Charon expectantly.

"Someone with high Spirit Awareness will be able to feel your presence and communicate with you in your current state, at least, somewhat," she explained.

I deflated. "So a Psychic?" I didn't know anyone who even claimed to have special abilities.

"Well, technically. But I'm not talking about those famous mediums on human television," Charon flicked back her hair again. "Anyone could possibly sense spirits - Probably one in thirty humans, actually. Besides, most of the psychics nowadays are lying cheats who really have no hand in the Underworld."

I cringed away from the distaste in her tone.

"So how would we know if someone has spirit awareness?" I questioned, redirecting the focus.

"Well…" Charon scratched the back of her curly head. "Guess and Check."

* * *

Lizzie emerged from her sister's bedroom, wiping slobber off of her arm. It had been a real hassle putting Sarah to sleep that night, and it was already a quarter past eight. It was partially her fault, Lizzie admitted, since she had forgotten to wake the toddler up during her nap, and now the toddler wasn't tired.

The redhead made her way to the island in her marble kitchen, stretching and yawning simultaneously. Opening her fridge, she pulled out a gallon of milk and proceeded to pour herself a glass.

"This isn't working," I cried, hovering two inches in front of Lizzie's face. Her eyes saw right through me, never once focusing on me. I had been trying to talk to her and catch her attention for the better part of ten minutes, even going so far as 'shaking' Sarah. The two year old could actually see me, Charon confirmed, and she could tell that something was wrong, but that was only because kids were more susceptible to the afterlife. When Sarah had first seen me and began to cry, I had held up hope that maybe her spirit awareness ran in the family, but that apparently wasn't the case; talking to Lizzie was like talking to a wall.

Charon, still seated on her scythe despite the fact that we were floating in a rich white girl's kitchen, brushed some of her pretty bangs from her eyes. "I can't sense anything extraordinary from her. We had better move on."

I sighed, finally relenting on my unfelt attacks. I felt my eyes blur with incoming tears as I looked at Lizzie, normal and familiar in every way, as she downed a glass of milk.

'What if this is the last time I'll ever see you?'

I leaned in for a hug just in case, and even though it wasn't returned, I began to feel a lot better. For about two seconds. Then I remembered my body, cold and water-logged in the black depths of Helena.

* * *

"Eydie!"

Back at my house, and inside my living room (did I mention how handy being a ghost was when you had to spy on someone? You could fly at high speeds, get to your destination in no time, and walk through walls!), I tugged at my little sister's hair. She had it in a nice little ponytail, which I could easily grab ahold of to tug on - if only my efforts translated as more than a slight breeze.

"Come on, Eydie. It's winter! None of the windows are open!"

Charon drifted toward me in intense silence and concentration. She didn't seem to notice when I pushed off the handle of her vehicle and sent her in a different direction; The head of the blade had been two inches from my nine year old sister's throat. Not that it would have actually hurt her, but the sight made me uncomfortable.

"Eeeeeeeee-deeeeeee!" I whaled, tugging at her head even harder, and even resorting to poking her in the face. She just continued on with using her Bratz doll to Karate chop my old teddy bear as if nothing was yanking her hair out of their follicles. I held my breath in case she had a delayed reaction, but the only sound was the ignored television, which played SpongeBob at a low volume. I growled in frustration.

"It's no use," Charon whined, lounging in a strange, reclining position. Her scythe was slanted downwards instead of horizontal, and she used it as a back rest while still suspended in midair. "From what I can tell, your family has less spirit awareness than the redhead. Even that child." She glanced down at Eydie as she concocted creative battle cries.

I face-palmed. Like a teenager in trendy clothes and heeled boots would ever drop kick the evil, one-eyed Dr. Theodore.

I glanced up at my mum as she busied herself with the dirty dishes from the night before. Her back was to me and she faced the sink, as well as a window. My chest physically hurt every time she paused to glance outside - I just knew she was looking for me. Her blonde hair was shorter than when I had last seen her, and I recalled that she had had a hair appointment that day. It was the reason she hadn't been home when Calcifer had gotten out.

Solemnly, I floated toward the kitchen slowly, as if I were in a trance. I stopped a couple of feet behind her, just watching her work, as I had done so many times before.

"I would offer to help, but…" I trailed off, not sure why I was trying to talk to her when I knew she couldn't hear me. I peeked over my shoulder and into the living room to see Charon examining Eydie's other abandoned dolls that scattered the carpet unceremoniously.

Like with Lizzie, I floated closer to my mom until we were touching, although, not really. I had to refrain from hugging her with any pressure because I didn't want to phase right through her and into the sink. I rested my head on her shoulder from behind, and when she moved her arm to scrub, her elbow went right through my temple. I didn't care. I wanted to stay right there forever.

I jumped away when someone knocked at the door.

"Coming!" my mum called, drying her hands on a towel that she had draped over her shoulder. When she was finished with it, she tossed it at Eydie's head. It connected with its target - Mum used to play softball.

"Hey!" Eydie cried, giggling. She tied it around her face like a ninja mask and returned to combat. "Hiya!" Apparently, the evil Dr. Theodore was on the brink of destroying the Bratz doll; Eydie was weird like that, making the bad guy win. Or, maybe, Franchesha would make a crazy convenient come-back.

Curiously, Charon returned to her upright position on her scythe and drifted to my side so we could peer through the door together.

My mum opened the door to see Tye on the other side, his dark hair dusted with snow and his cheeks unnaturally rosy. In his arms was a white, fluffy, fat cat.

"Hi, Ms. Faye," he greeted, plopping Calcifer into my mum's open and relieved arms. "Is Gwen here? I tried calling her cell, but she won't pick up."

* * *

**Hey guys! First of all, you have no idea how grateful I am for all of the feedback, and I sincerely hope you stick around with me. I'm sorry for any mistakes or typos.**

**And I am happy to say that, after many a notebook paper, I actually have a plan for this fic, and personally, I believe it is one of my best yet. As a warning, I should tell you guys that the beginning will be focused around my OC, and will not have much to do with Yusuke and Company. Hopefully, in a few chapters (it depends on my starting and stopping points) we'll have our first meetings. I'm super excited for this fic. As for Charon and Pluto, I have a little explaining to do. I plan to introduce the European afterlife, mainly the Roman/Latin one, as a sort of counterpart to the Asian one that we see in YYH. Pluto is the equivalent of Koenma, and Charon is the equivalent of Botan. Although, Pluto isn't a baby. There are going to be many mythology references! And I know that, in the English dub, the characters make references to how they live in an English speaking country, but scratch that off, because…Well, they are in Japan. At first, I wasn't going to have Gwen live in England, but after the first chapter, I began to plan how the afterlife is set up; the most detailed and popular belief of the under/spirit world is in control of the entire CONTINENT. I wanted the Roman afterlife because for Gwen, so… Europe it is! But Yusuke will come up, I swear, because this is just one side of the River Styx. What river doesn't branch off?**

**Anyway, thanks for reading.**

**~Mao**


	3. The Blue Eyed Girl (Saw Me Die)

**Well… I totally didn't intend to hold off chapter three this long. Whoops?**

**I'm determined to get to meeting the Canon cast in the next one to few chapters, so… yeah? =)**

**I would also like to inform you of a change: this will no longer be a for sure HieixOc fic... for sure. I had second thoughts and have decided to ask you guys who Gwen should end up with, so please tell me what you think! I hope Gwen will develop and change, so please consider that when you think about her pairing. **

**Anyway, thank you for clicking on Chapter three!**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Charon could tell just from looking at Tye that he had an inkling of Spiritual awareness. Which was fantastic, except he didn't quite have enough to see me standing right in front of his face.

Tye had, after he had finished shoveling the snow from his driveway, noticed that I hadn't come back with Calcifer. More importantly, I hadn't come back at all, and he knew me well enough to know that it wasn't in my nature to stay out that long for some stupid animal. He knew something was wrong for sure when he found Calcifer in his mom's bushes.

Mum hadn't been worried until then because she had thought I was still searching for the damn cat - apparently she had more faith in my good character than Tye did. However, since it was two hours past my curfew, and I wouldn't pick up my most likely water-damaged phone, she was frantic. She dropped Eydie off with Tye's family, and, along with Tye, his dad, and two of his older brothers - Matt and Austin - she went scouring the town for any sign of where I may have gone. It was pretty much pitch black outside, and coupled with the still falling snow, spotting any footprints was impossible.

I watched my mum and the others come to a consensus: If I didn't get home by morning, the Police would be involved. Mum had already called them to ask if they'd seen me, and when they responded with a no, she asked them to keep an eye out. No one went to their respective homes until well past two in the morning.

"So help me God, Gwyneth Faye, if you come home and it turns out you were just passed out at a party…!" Mum growled. Oh boy. She would be so disappointed.

The whole ordeal with pretty rough; they still had no idea that I was dead, and I would be for good if they didn't find my body fast.

Charon floated at my side, finally using some manners and no longer making snide remarks about how incompetent my family and friends were, and how it totally ran in the family. She must have sensed how distraught and hopeless I was becoming. I turned to her.

"Can't we try and talk to Tye?" I cried. Charon spiraled a lock of hair around her finger, sighing.

"That would be ideal, but you can't even make contact with your dark-haired friend. He just brushes off our presence as a bad feeling or a breeze." To make a point, Charon waved her arm through Tye's head as he walked passed and returned a sleeping Eydie to my mother's arms. He visibly shuddered, but only slipped his hood on.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Ms. Faye." He left it at that and opened the door outside. I groaned at the hopelessness of the situation.

Charon appeared troubled as she tapped her chin. "We could always try scoping out the neighborhood by the river for anyone who'd pay attention to us."

"No way," I shot down immediately. I'd already thought of that. "What if we accidently get some freaky necrophiliac to find my body?" I shuddered at the thought.

"Don't flatter yourself," Charon scoffed,"not even the post mortem bloating from the water would make _you're_ tiny chest appealing to _anyone_."

My face grew red, a decidedly strange reaction when my current form had no blood. I had no argument; I had the chest of a ten year-old boy. Bringing Charon into the equation would be a losing battle, since she had the curves of a, well, a goddess.

"What do you have against that part of town, anyway?" Charon wondered.

"Well, for one, I died there," I muttered, "and there are hobos and prostitu-..."

My eyes wided.

A flash of blue flickered in my mind, as I was falling, dying.

"Gwyneth? What is it?" Charon asked, peering at my face.

"I'm so stupid." I told her.

She blinked at me. "Not that I'm argueing, but what do you mean?"

"I just remembered. Someone saw me die."

* * *

"Don't be too hard on yourself," Charon comforted, although she didn't sound too sympathetic. "Dying is rather traumatic. I'm sure your mind blocked out certain memories to protect you." I nodded, because that would certainly explain how I could forget something so important, or how I hadn't realized I was dead when I first woke up floating in the sky.

"What _I_ want to know is, if somebody saw you fall, why the police hadn't been called," Charon rambled on.

After I'd shared my revelation that the black, blue-eyed prostitute peered over the side of the bride at me as I fell to my death, Charon had ushered me onto the back of her scythe. I held onto her waist tightly as she flew like a jet all the way to the river. It was kind of cool, but there was no butterflies in my stomach that made roller coasters fun.

I scanned the river. Much to my chagrin, my body had drifted even farther out of view. I could barely tell what it was, and _I_ knew what I was looking at. The lack of sunlight didn't help at all.

With Charon's help, I'd scoured the roads and alleys for any sign of the girl with the blue eyes, but there wasn't any that I could find. Lost, the two us us reconvened at Helena's bridge to discuss any new ideas. We were silent in our thinking, so quiet that the minute click of a car door was as loud as a siren. I watched as a pretty redheaded girl in stilettos and a tight pink skirt step out of a white Volvo. She was smacking her lips like she had just finished applying a fresh layer of lipstick. The Volvo rolled away as soon as she shut the door behind her. I watched as she took out a cell phone from her purse.

"Yeah, my shift is over," she whispered into the device. A normal person wouldn't have been able to hear her, but I'd been drifting so close that it was like she was speaking into my ear. A voice crackled on the other end, but I couldn't make it out. Suddenly, the girl began to strut down the bridge. Actually, I think she was trying to walk normally, but her feet must have hurt too much. I shot Charon a look.

"Well," she shrugged her shoulders in her spot on her scythe. "Are you going to follow her or not?"

I followed her.

* * *

If I would have ever wandered into a… pimp pit?... while in my body, I would have probably had a heart attack and died. No thank you, my real death was bad enough.

However, my first experience in a building where prostitutes gathered was not a bad one - even though I was technically dead, which kind of sucked.

"That's her!" I exclaimed to Charon, pointing at a lean figure on a surprisingly nice couch. The black girl with blue eyes was peeling back her panyhose. Her previously perfect hair was a mess, and her eye makeup was even worse. Glitter was no longer confined to her lids, and dusted her cheekbones.

She was still ten times prettier than I was.

She was also shaking like she'd seen a ghost, and was oddly pale for a black girl. The redhead that I'd followed to get here plopped down next to her, wasting no time to kick off her heels. She seemed to notice the other's trembling.

"What's wrong, December?" she asked concernedly. She flinched, remembering where they were and why. "I mean, what happened?"

"I-"

"I'd guess she saw some flabby Sullivan ass," another girl interjected as she entered the room, finishing her shift as well. She was clad in shiny black leather. Sullivan was the mayor, an older fellow who, if I had to guess from the conversation, secretly had a few affairs with women who cost more than free.

"You're not being funny, Yasmine," Redhead scolded, placing a comforting hand on the black girl's - _December's_ \- shoulder. Yasmine snorted and frowned as she sat down with them.

"Oh, I wasn't kidding, Roxy. I was the same way the first time I saw _that_."

I pursed my lips. This wasn't really something I wanted to hear about. Luckily, December came to my rescue.

"No, I- I-"

"Spit it out!"

"Stop it, Yasmine!"

December shook her head. "I saw someone die earlier."

"What? That's terrible," Roxy gasped. "What happened."

"A kid - she was like fifteen, sixteen - fell over Helena's railing today. You know, in that weird spot where it's just starting."

Finally, we were getting somewhere. I glanced at Charon hopefully, and she appeared as relieved as I felt.

"I was just at Helena's," Roxy mused. "There weren't any cops or any tape. Are you sure something like that happened?"

December looked down at her hands. "Yeah, I'm sure… I just...never called the police."

I nearly jumped on her, nearly punched her. Luckily I remembered in time that I couldn't hurt her no matter what I did, so I saved myself some embarrassment from attacking thin air in front of Charon.

"I panicked," December continued, swallowing. "I was scared. And I wanted to talk to someone." She glanced at Roxy. "But now I think I can do it. Now I think I can do the right thing."

"Don't." Yasmine said. December balked, and I almost strangled someone again.

"What the hell do you mean, 'don't'!?'"

"What I mean is don't call the cops. All that will happen is, well, they'll just turn on you. You want to explain to them what you were doing in this side of town at night?"

December crossed her arms. "I'll call on a phone booth, leave an anonymous tip."

"We don't need the cops 'round these parts. There's… _evidence_. Everywhere. Do that, and all of us'd be discovered."

"So I should just let some poor kid rot in the river!?"

"Yep. Honestly, it sounds like she _wanted_ to be _alone_," Yasmine undid her shiny brown hair from its updo. December just gaped at her like a fish as she slowly comprehended what her co worker was implying.

Oh _hell_, no.

"Uh-oh," Charon fretted, paler than the moon.

"She - she wasn't committing suicide! She - I saw her grab the bottom of the bridge!" December exclaimed. Yasmine eyed her condescendingly.

"Yeah, probably by instinct, or second thoughts, but trust me, falling over that part of the bridge by accident is impossible."

December engaged her in a glaring battle. I wondered how anyone could be a match for such stunningly blue eyes - they were burning, practically - but Yasmine must have had tough skin. December broke first and looked at her hands, which were folded on her lap. But she still said, "I'm calling them anyway. If she wanted to commit suicide, she'da jumped where the bridge was higher. Besides, an anonymous tip can't do too much harm, and there's a mom out there, somewhere, wondering where her little girl is."

"Don't do it, December."

All my hope was lost with Roxy's intervention; she was clearly who December trusted the most, if she trusted anyone at all. Yasmine's words were cruel when she voiced them, but Roxy's were reality. The blue-eyed girl was just as shocked as I was at the red head's outburst, her probably more so. Roxy didn't look anyone in the eye, and she looked like her own words left a sour taste in her mouth, but she didn't recall them.

"Rox…?" December treaded lightly, and I could tell she was confused and uncertain.

"If it were just you, or just me, I'd say go ahead and risk it," Roxy started, "but that would affect all of us. Yas, Rachel, Franny, Dell, Max - they'd all be at risk. Police in this part of town means trouble. Any girl even seen in these parts, well, that's evidence enough to take them in. And - and there isn't much to do for a dead girl. _Our_ family takes priority."

"But…" December's argument died in her throat.

Roxy gripped her shoulder, quickly adding, "And who's the say the police won't find her without our help? If she's a missing person, I'm sure they'd sweep the river anyway, just not _here_."

I was grim. At some point during the talk, I'd floated down to the ground and stood in front of the three girls, who more or less decided my fate, with my arms crossed expectantly. Charon was suspended nearby, glancing nervously between me and December, our only hope. _My_ only hope.

"You're right," she finally whispered, leaning back onto the couch in exhaustion. "I'll...I'll keep quiet."

"Cowards."

I'd meant for it to come out as a yell, a cry of anguish from someone desparate. Instead it came out breathy, quiet, and icy.

The girls shivered, and the room's temperature must have dropped twenty degrees. I saw their breath come out in a cloud. December froze, her eyes flickering between her companions.

"Well," Yasmine yawned, standing and shrugging on a winter coat. "I'm heading out."

"Wait, you… you didn't hear that?" December piped up. Yamine blinked, practically already out the door.

"Nope."

I didn't see what became of Yasmine after that, nor Roxy,after she wrapped herself in a blanket and slipped on a pair of jeans and tennies, because I was too busy being fixated on December. Charon hummed next to my head.

"Ah, well isn't that lucky? It seems she has Spiritual awareness."

As if on cue, December jumped ten feet into the air at her words. Charon's demeanor changed to one of wonder.

"Quite an awful lot, too, if she can hear me."

December jumped again.

* * *

"Look," she grumbled into the frigid night air, pulling a scarf over her lips in case a late night straggler was nearby. Wouldn't want them to think she was crazy, would we? "I don't know who you are - well, for sure - but I would appreciate it if you stopped whatever it is you're doing to me!"

December finished her little confrontation with a cute little yelp when I tugged her scarf down. "Would you bloody stop that!? Please!?"

I rolled my eyes but dropped the article of clothing.

"Thank you!" she sighed in relief.

It hadn't taken long for Charon and I to discover that , through a series of calculated field experiments, December and anything she touched had enough concentrated Spiritual particles - whatever _those_ were - for me to physically connect with her to a certain extent. So, in other words, a poke felt like feather, and punch felt like a pinch. We'd also come to figure out that, while she could hear voices in an unrecognizable whisper, she couldn't make out our words. That made it a heck whole lot harder to get her to call the cops, but Charon had hatched a brilliant plan to lead her to Helena's bridge - and then to a phone booth. The only problem so far was her unwillingness to follow my tugs; I guess they were too uninformative. It was like trying to take a stubborn dog on a walk.

"Follow me, then, if you don't want to choke to death!" I warned in my creepiest ghost voice. Of course, I didn't have enough strength to choke her, not even with a scarf, and she didn't understand my threat anyway, but she did stiffen at supernatural static in her ear. She'd been progressively getting used to my presence, I noticed.

I mentioned to Charon that she was reacting to a ghost's presence rather well, to which she replied that she'd probably had had encounters with the dearly departed before. December most likely had her spiritual senses since she was a baby.

Charon was silent beside us, but she trailed us like an interested spectator. It was by eyeing her in the air that I noticed a silver glint. A phone booth, one I hadn't known about, was a block down the road.

Maybe we didn't have to take her to the river at all? I yanked at the scarf again, this time down the street.

"Gwyneth?" Charon glanced at me.

"H-hey!" December was caught off guard by the force put behind it and didn't fight back. I quickly found this activity exhausting, as I pulling with all my power, but managed to maintain a neck-breaking speed of a light jog until the booth was a foot in front of us.

"I get the picture," December muttered. I collapsed in a heap on the pavement, drained. I was relieved to see her place her hand on the booth's door handle - until a shadow twisted into her way. Surprised, December stumbled back, unknowingly phasing through me. I, on the other hand, felt like I'd been slammed into a wall - okay, maybe not quite that bad, as I hadn't budged an inch, but it wasn't a pleasant feeling.

"Yasmine," she gasped. The busty brunette was leaning against the glass door with her arms crossed; she didn't look happy. At all.

"You know, _I had a hunch you hadn't given up on this,_" Yasmine sighed, twirling something in her manicured hand. With a sinking feeling, I realized it was the phone's bell, the wire dangling at its bottom, severed from the device. A rock dropped in my stomach.

"I'm lucky you picked _this_ booth to use," Yasmine continued, examining the bell in her hand like it was something very interesting. "Roxy's waiting at the one by Helena's. It'd break her heart to find out you'd turn on us." She finally glanced at a tense and trembling December, her eyes mirthful and hard like stone. A silver gleam caught my eye. Yasmine flicked open a switchblade in her free hand.

"Besides, her lesson won't be as _educational_ as _mine_."

December's baby blues followed the blade as it traveled tauntingly through the air. Yasmine pointed it at her, her eyes as cold as the snow underneath them.

"Charon, what do we do!?" I panicked, attempting to push my body up so I could stand, only to give up when I realized that I was still too exhausted to even do that. It was a strange fatigue - it wasn't in my muscles, as I had none in the form, but it was more in my mind. December flinched at my voice, but did not take her eyes off of the blade. Yasmine wouldn't kill her, I figured, just try to persuade her to stay away from phone booths for a while.

But for me, that was a death sentence.

I could tell from the atmosphere that these two girls obviously didn't quite get along, probably even before today's mishap, but to think that a knife would get pulled was just plain crazy.

"This could be bad," Charon frowned, her delicate face pulled taunt in concern. I caught myself from sending her an incredulous look; it had _already_ gotten bad. Any other witness would have called the police immediately. Any other bridge wouldn't have been a prime spot for hooker business. Any other phone booth wouldn't have a psycho chick in black stilettos with a knife about to shank someone.

I was having such a great day.

Yasmine swung the blade, but obviously she had never really used it before. She was a messy and uncoordinated person, especially in those tall heels. December had traded her blue ones for tennies. Thankfully, she could easily dodge.

And, to give her credit, she wasn't freezing up at the sight of a weapon. I probably would have.

It kind of made me wonder what all she had seen, or been through; it couldn't have been easy.

Yasmine was tall and thin but December was taller, and she wasn't just skin and bones. In a seasoned way that would make any football player jealous, December all but rolled her eyes and lunged. Yasmine was already off balance, but she went down much quicker than even December thought she would. The brunette was punched in her perfectly made-up face, and she crumbled like a toy-soldier doll, the kind that broke at the push of a broken. She was out cold, the knife useless in her limp hand. December blinked in surprise, but ultimately she bent down and plucked the switch blade from her grip.

I was shell-shocked. I had gone to hopeful, to crushed, to scared, to relieved in just a few minutes. Now I was just plain exhausted.

Charon whistled. "Well, she certainly took care of _that_," she eyed the severed phone, "Now we just have to get to the other phone booth."

I frowned. "Yeah, but that redhead is over there."

"So?"

"So December isn't gonna want to fight _her_."

Charon thought about it for a moment. "No, I suppose she won't."

We were right, December didn't want to fight her, and while I was contemplating some way to remedy this, December found a way herself; an unexpected, completely selfless way.

She called the police on her cellphone

"Hello, this is Alison Sanders. I'd like to report a death I witnessed."

* * *

**I hope Gwen doesn't seem too Mary Sue, especially since she's in three sports and is already strong and in shape: she'll soon find out that this world and the other have different definitions of 'fit'.**

**You should probably take what Gwen says with a grain of salt, especially when it comes to herself. :)**

**I know Mary Sueness shouldn't be a goal, but I kinda wanted her to think herself perfect in a way that made her not perfect and way too cocky. Besides… room for character development, right? O.o (#Excuses)**

**I would also like to say: I don't hate prostitutes, or hobos, and I try to understand that they are usually people who are down on their luck and may have no other choice. Even if that's not the case, I believe in loving everyone, no matter what. I'm sorry if Gwen's perspective came off as a little less than accepting. Also I have no idea how the British police system works, or if they even call them cops at all, so please excuse my if my American lingo makes it hard to believe Gwen is European.**

**Thanks for reading! And please Review? Let me know what you think!**

**~Mao**


	4. My Basketball Team (Hates Me)

**Hey guys! Jeez, it's been awhile, hasn't it? Still excited about this fic, and I still plan to update it. **

**Also, I made a slight change, if you read the previous chapters before June, 2016. I bumped Gwen up to age 18 rather than 16. **

**Thanks for reading!**

* * *

I floated beside my mum while she stood on Helena's bridge, her knuckles white on the railing. Her face was blank. Her eyes were blank. It was like the time my dad had left - for an hour the next morning, she had sat at our kitchen island with a cup of coffee that went cold long before she took her first sip. But as soon as Eydie started crying in her crib, she had leapt up, dumped her cup in the sink, tied her hair back, and took care of her baby. She took care of _us_, and I never saw that look again.

Coach Thunderman gripped her shoulder, his face as grim as it was when he told us war stories

Tye was behind her, pacing, his steps crunching in the snow. Lizzie was huddled on the ground, shuddering in the cold. My basketball team stood next to them - two groups of kids that didn't ever talk, oil and water, together like they were each other's last lifeline.

These people - the most important people in my life - watched the rescue paramedics drag my corpse from the river.

Just like how Charon had warned, my body was blue and swollen. It didn't even look like me.

My mum took one look and spun around. "Oh, God." She fell over right there, Coach just barely snagging her into his arms, keeping her off the ground. He took a long, sad glance into the river before carrying my mum into the constable's car. Eydie was asleep inside; she had barely been awake long enough to crawl inside, and she had fallen back asleep on the brief ride from our house to the river. Coach laid my mom in the seat beside her, and she shifted at the sound, though she didn't wake.

The constable's car next to them was preoccupied; December, or Alison, had been placed into the back seat and handcuffed. She stared out the window, leaning back to catch a glimpse of the paramedics. When she saw them with their prize, she returned to sitting normally, leaning her temple against the window. I'd overheard one of the constable's speaking to another, and apparently Alison was a murder suspect. Isn't _that _ironic - the woman who saved me was being accused of harming me. Though I could kind of see where the notion was coming from, as Alison had refused to give an alibi. She couldn't very well say she was patrolling the streets for lonely men. And soon, I figured, the biopsy would reveal she waited _hours _before calling the authorities, which practically screamed 'fishy'.

Earlier, I had briefly wondered if Alison could have saved me if she had made that phone call immediately after my fall. But Charon had put those thoughts to rest.

"What killed you was a combination of the impact with the water, the freezing temperature, and the Adder venom. You were dead within five minutes, well before any ambulance could have come to your rescue.

Lizzie was on the ground - her knees had given out, and her face was paler than the moon - and Tye was leaning precariously over railings. His eyes were fixed on the dark water below, as if that was all he could ever see again.

Erica had dashed away from the team and into some nearby shrubbery to vomit, though three girls followed her to make sure she was okay. And to hold her hair back.

I touched my cheek, expecting to find tears, but instead found that my eyes were completely dry. I supposed ghost really couldn't produce water, now, could they?

"Okay," I turned to Charon, my voice sounding miles away. "So we rescued my body. Now what?"

Charon, with her pretty brown eyes, actually looked sad. "Now there's some business we have to take care of." She gestured to the floating scythe she rode. "Hop on."

* * *

To say I was shocked to see the _Underworld _of all places was an understatement. Charon had zoomed this way and that, and soon urban life scattered and broke free to simple trees - _purple _trees. According to Charon, we had passed through some sort of portal, though I couldn't exactly pinpoint when or where that had been. It felt like driving into the country, except there was no neighboring town when there should have been. Charon had mentioned before that this place was her home, but to actually see it was…

It was creepy.

"Look," Charon pointed to a silver line dissecting the valley and forest beneath us. "That's the River Styx." I would have snorted at her if we weren't on a flying hunk of antique farming equipment. I thought back to school, to when I had briefly learned about Greek and Roman mythology.

"Oh, hell," I moaned. "You're _the _Charon. As in, _the _ferryman of the River Styx." It wasn't so much a question as a realization.

Charon turned her head and gave a cute little wink. She wasn't exactly how I would have pictured the being that, since the beginning of humanity, lead billions of souls to their final resting place, be it good or bad. "Well, I'm not the _only _driver, but I've certainly made quite a name for myself."

"Wait, so, does that mean I'm not getting my life back!?" I panicked. If she was taking me to the Underworld, who's to say she wasn't going to make sure I never left?

"Don't be silly, Gwyneth. We just went through all of that work to get your body out of the river."

"Right," I laughed nervously. "So then, um, what are we doing here?"

Charon turned her back to me. "We're here to speak with someone."

The rest of our ride was consumed with the wind roaring by our ears. I gasped in awe when, after several minutes, a large tower came into to view. Actually, it was more of a coliseum, as it was round like a dome, but there was a distinct 'castle' feel to it. Charon landed right by the giant marble pillars of the entryway, and she didn't wait for me to finish admiring the smooth white stone. I found myself anchored to the ground, gravity once again taking authority over my body. The doors opened at the wave of her hand, swinging open eerily. Their reluctant whine echoed down the corridor, mixing with our footsteps. Charon didn't even float on her scythe, which, now that she was gripping it in one hand, I could see it was almost as tall as she was. She was surprisingly quick in her sandals.

The further we walked, the less 'alone' I began to feel. Shadows danced on the walls, and a soft murmuring like voices bounced from an unknown origin. I shivered and jog a few paces to catch up with my guide.

Charon stopped at tall, eloquent, wooden doors. This time, she firmly knocked her fist against their face.

They swung open.

Following her inside, I inspected this busy room with a raised brow. The previous hallway had been ominous - hell, it was downright creepy. This room, however, was something akin to an office. There was even a printer, and a ficus by the empty receptionist desk. Elevator music played over some unseen speaker, soft and incessant, and chatter rolled around us like. There were cubicles, book shelves, and computers.

But the people at these computers, or bookshelves, were not human. I found myself staring at men with goat butts. And goat legs. And goat horns. It would have been the strangest thing I'd ever seen - If I wasn't a ghost.

Charon strode straight to the receptionist desk, where no one was present.

"We have an appointment."

I blinked, about to open my mouth and call her crazy. There was no one there that she could have been talking to.

Then the ficus morphed into a woman. She had green skin and leaves for hair. And she had a fairy's face. She batted her eyelashes, which looked like flower stamen.

"You're late. Hurry in, Charon."

Charon, who was already progressing, waved her off. "Yeah, yeah." I followed dumbly. When the phone rang and the receptionist was preoccupied, Charon muttered, "Ugh. Nymphs."

Yeah. Definitely not the weirdest part of my day.

We stopped at _another _pair of doors. I could see my own face in their black, smooth obsidian furnishing. I certainly didn't _look _like I was dead.

Charon barged right in, and was meet with incessant, high-pitched barking. A completely black puppy assaulted her feet with slobbery licks. With three tongues. With its three heads.

I was so done with this place.

The floors of this room were just as reflective as the doors and just as black. I could see no distinction between the ground and the walls, giving the room a shapeless feel. There was nothing but the dog, Charon, and me in the room to see anyway, save a desk, a chair, and a man.

He looked to be in his late twenties, maybe early thirties, his business suit pristine and fashionable. His hair hair was slicked back, and though it was grey, he didn't exactly look like an old man. Actually, he was kind of handsome, like a younger version of George Clooney. He was leaning back in his chair, his feet kicked on her desk. He swung them to the floor when he noticed us.

"Down, Cerberus. Ah, Charon, well done. I see you've brought our star of the hour."

I blinked. At our feet, the puppy snapped his mouths shut and whined, trotting off to the right. What I thought was a wall, apparently, was actually a corridor, because that pup just keep right on trotting until I couldn't see it anymore.

"Yes, sir, I brought her," Charon nodded primly. She sent me a look that meant to step forward.

"Um," I said eloquently,"hi?"

The man chuckled, rising to his feet and talking three long strides to my side. He took my hand and gave it an overly zealous shake. "Yes, yes, Gwyneth, it's nice to finally meet you - though our acquaintance really shouldn't have come to be for another seventy years."

I remembered Charon's words when I first met her, specifically when she mentioned the name of her ruler and employer. "You're Pluto," I realized. Great. I just shook hands with death. Or, I supposed, the _ruler_ of death was getting better and better.

The man smiled. It should have been warm, but really, it was like it was painted on. Like Eydie's Bratz doll. "Well done. Yes, I am Pluto."

"Wait," I did quick calculations in my head. "So I was going to live until I was eighty-eight?"

Pluto's lip twitched. "Sure."

"Okay," I started slowly, something finally dawning on me. "So, I was _supposed _to die as an old woman." I looked down at my wrist, or rather, the junction with it and my hand, where the adder had sunk its fangs. The skin remained unblemished, but I thought I could briefly feel the sting of the bite. "But that didn't really happen, did it?"

Was that even possible? Could these people make such a mistake? I mean, what was I even implying? That the immortal sorter of souls had a blemish on his record?

"Why am I even here?" I finally had the sense to ask. There had to be a reason Charon dragged me down here, and I didn't want to waste any time getting to the bottom of it.

Pluto shot a glance at Charon, though I couldn't decipher its meaning. "You're here," Pluto began, "because we need to fix the future. And the only way to do that is to bring you back to life."

I shot a look to Charon as well. Despite our rough patch in the beginning, I had come to see her as a friend. "So I've heard. But why exactly do we need to do get my life _back _in the _after_life?"

Pluto blinked. "What did you think, that you could just _walk _back into your body like nothing happened?"

"Yes," I said. I hadn't been told otherwise.

Sighing and shaking his head, Pluto took a seat on top of his desk. "No, Gwyneth, unfortunately, that's not how this works. You see, your spirit and your physical shell were forcibly split - they no longer fit together properly." At my blank look, he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Think of it this way: when a person dies, their soul sheds their unusable body, similar to how a snake sheds its skin."

"Please don't use _snake _analogies," I grimaced.

"Fine… So when a _butterfly _sheds its cocoon, they can no longer crawl back in and use it again. Not only would it be too small, but it was likely damaged from the emergence. When your spirit left your body, an important bond was severed. Plus, considering all of the damage from your death, If you tried to possess the body in its current state, your spirit would simply be rejected."

I crossed my arms to keep them from trembling. "So what you're saying is I can't be brought back to life?"

"No," Pluto looked me in the eye. "There a certain strings that I can pull. But I can't just do it for any 'ole spirit who croaks before their time."

I perked up. "Really? What do I have to do to 'qualify' as not any 'ole spirit?"

Pluto rose to his face, circled his desk, and pulled open a drawer. He pulled out a yellowed square of paper and slid it onto his desk where I could see it.

"All you have to do, Gwyneth, is sign this contract and complete an Ordeal."

The Lord of the Underworld grasped my hand and slipped a blue ballpoint pen into it. I eyed it wearily. "What do you mean, Ordeal?"

Pluto smiled again, his lips thinning. Obviously, he was using the action to hide some emotion I wouldn't like. "An Ordeal is just what we call a trial of sorts. A test, if you will, to prove that you deserve your life back."

"Where do I sign?" I gushed, leaning over the desk and readying my pen. I paused briefly to glance over the contracts conditions (I imagined they may have been along the lines of 'you can get your life back for now, but once you're eighty-eight, it's eternal damnation for you!') only to realize I couldn't read the language. "Is this Latin?"

"The contract isn't something you need to worry your pretty little head about, dear," Pluto waved off my question. "It's pretty standard: 'I understand the terms and conditions provided', stuff like that. If anything, it's to bind _me_ to my word if you succeed but I end up hating your guts."

For some reason, I got the distinct feeling that there were a _lot _of guts he hated. I mean, Pluto seemed pretty normal, but I had yet to see anything but his good side. If Roman mythology was any indication, this was not a man - or, god, I guess - who I wanted to anger.

So I signed the contract, because making and keeping new friends was not something I was particularly good at.

"Alright," I stood when I had finished. "So then, what's this Ordeal I need to complete?"

"Ah, yes. This is usually where our business turns into a 'easier said than done' situation."

I laid the pen on the desk, it's deep red mesmerizing me - mostly because I was pretty freaking sure it had been blue before. It was red on the contract as well. Charon noticed my discovery. "It's a special pen that gathers the writer's blood through a residual portal."

That meant absolutely nothing to me. Charon figured as much from the look on my face. "So the pen uses traces of the spirit holding it to locate the body, open a small portal the size of a vein, and utilize their blood. This is a blood contract, now."

"Oh," was all I could say. Cool?

Pluto cleared his throat. "As I was saying... Gwyneth Faye, your Ordeal is to fix the mistake you _would_ have fixed had you not died." His black eye sparkled. "Good luck." Pluto snapped his fingers.

And suddenly, just like that, a gust of wind ruffled my hair, and I found myself face to face with my reflection in the obsidian doors to Pluto's office.

Well, _that_ was descriptive.

* * *

"Something just doesn't seem right to me," I half-shouted into the Charon's ear. It was the only volume at which she could hear me over the sound of rushing wind.

After our dismissal, Charon had ushered me back out of the Underworld and back onto her scythe, saying "We haven't much time to lose."

"Oh? What's that?" she shouted back.

I bit my lip. "No one's explained how this whole mess started!"

"What do you mean? You died, _that's _how it started."

I shook my head. "No, I mean, how could I have died 'before my time'? Why did I die at Helena's instead of in my late eighties?"

It was Charon's turn to bite her lip. I allowed her extra time to come up with an answer when our vehicle, back in my world, slowed to a more reasonable pace. But when seconds of silence turned into a minute, I lost my patience pretty quickly.

"Well?"

"I… I told you before, didn't I? We don't like snakes. Among _other _animals." Charon didn't look back at me.

"So a snake bit me to piss you guys off?" I humphed.

"No! Snakes are just snakes; they're just animals. They don't know what they're doing." I was finally graced with a glance. "But they also don't know about their abilities. Not really."

I dead-panned. "Don't you dare tell me snakes are psychics."

Charon sighed. "Gwyneth, will you let me finish without jumping to silly conclusions?"

"Fine. Go on."

"Thank you. As I was saying, there are certain animals that just have influence in the Underworld, some more than others. Dogs, for example, can sense spirits and storms, cats have nine lives, and scorpions can literally inject humans with fragments of the Underworld."

"Woah," I said.

"And snakes, unfortunately for the lot of us, are immortal. As soon as their body dies, they shed it for a new one. The Underworld has no place for them, and until something kills them, they will never die. They don't have a specified lifespan."

"So every snake I've ever seen is immortal," I said, less of a question than an incredulous statement.

"Well, no. Like I said, they're just animals and often aren't aware of their abilities. Most of the time, when they get to a certain age they die simply because other things around them die. It's all they know, so they unconsciously make the decision to die when they really don't have tol. We can track that type, give them a proper home in the afterlife, know who or what they affect in their lifetime - and who they kill, if they kill anyone at all. However, In very rare instances like your own, the snakes that never die become unpredictable. They mess up people's fates and screw over our entire system. You, Gwyneth, were suppose to snag a hold of that beam when you fell and pull yourself to safety. You were supposed to have lived, and you were even supposed to have a life-altering revelation about how you've been treating your teammates - "

Charon stopped short, her face whiter than a sheet of paper. "Er- I mean… Um…"

"Was that - am I supposed to _reconcile _with my _basketball team_? Was that my Ordeal?"

Charon finally got some color in her cheeks - a heavy blush of embarrassment. "You were supposed to figure that out for yourself…" She gasped, suddenly going pale again. I'd never seen so many colors on her face before. "Oh, hell! I'll probably be demoted! My perfect record, tarnished, ruined!" She slapped her cheeks, similar to _The Scream_. "Oh, Pluto will be so angry with me!"

"So don't tell him."

This earned me a sputtered cry of disbelief. "What!? That - that's just - Gwyneth Faye! That is just _diabolical!_"

I shrugged. "Here, let's make a deal. You won't change my Ordeal, and I won't tell Pluto you slipped up. Win-win."

"Gwyneth, you do realize the whole _point _of the Ordeal is to test your _worthiness_? To see if you actually _deserve _another chance at life?"

"But Charon, I was never _supposed _to die - _I'm _not the one who messed up, _you guys _are. I shouldn't have to be _worthy _for you to fix your own mistake."

"I- I guess I never…" Charon was flustered, beat read once more.

"Besides, wasn't my near-death experience supposed to cause a revelation? When I woke up as a ghost, I barely remembered that I died because of the trauma! So I couldn't have had that change of heart, and it would have been impossible for me to figure out my Ordeal."

"I…"

I gave Charon and expectant look. She slouched in defeat. "Alright, deal." she sighed. "I'll take you to your teammates."

We sped away on her scythe.

* * *

My team consisted of fifteen girls, myself included, but five of them were underclassmen who were waiting their turn for playing time and only got in when we were forty points ahead. They didn't practice with us seniors unless we needed to try out a new play on dummies. I've really never talked or played with them.

Erika, Rachel, Candy, Paige, Hannah, Michael, Jessica, Kylie, and Marie were all in my grade. I had been playing Basketball with them since I was six. Without even looking at their faces, I could always tell who was running beside me based solely on how they carried themselves. They could do the same for me, and each other. Other than my family, Lizzie, and Tye, these girls knew me better than anyone.

"So, Charon, considering our deal, what _exactly _was my revelation about?" I asked.

We watched the nine girls sit in my very full living room, Tye and Lizzie together, separate from them. Or, maybe, it was more like the team was one person. They all have the same face - pale, tear-streaked.

Mom had, thanks to Coach, made it to her room, Eydie tucked under her arms. I had kissed them both on the cheek before making my way out here.

"Oh, no, Gwyneth. You're not getting anything more out of me." Charon pretended to zip her lips and throw the key away.

I sighed. It wasn't like I just had a fight with any of these girls. Well, I did have an exchange of less than polite words with Erika on the court, but that was how she played. Erika was aggressive and verbal.

The heavy silence in the room was suffocating, like a blanket.

"This is just depressing," I sighed. I crossed my legs and sat in the air, even with them on the couch. My voice didn't break the silence. They, of course, couldn't hear it.

"It just… doesn't seem real," Michael sobbed. Good old Michael. She was always super nice.

"Yeah. I feel like when I fall asleep, I'll wake up and this whole thing will just be a dream," Rachel agreed.

"I'm… I'm going to miss her," Hannah choked out. Hannah was even sweeter than Michael.

Then I heard, "Even though she was such a bitch."

I blinked. Hannah? Sweet Hannah?

The others laughed through their tears - even Lizzie and Tye. The only one who remained stone-faced was Erika.

"Do you remember in the seventh grade when I brought candy after practice for my birthday?" Candy giggled as fresh tears streamed down her face. Candy brought candy to school every birthday as a play on her name. "Gwen said 'no wonder you're the slowest girl on the team'." More laughter.

"God, she pissed me the fuck off," Paige cried, her smile wide and unpreventable. "She would never call her own fouls when we scrimmaged on our honor."

"Gwen had no honor!" shouted Kylie. I found it funny coming from her, considering she sleep with three guys in one week. "She always called me a slut, that judgemental prick. She didn't even care when I tried to tell her I was a virgin."

Well. The rumors did seem pretty legit. I smacked my face, embarrassed, because I had been so convinced they were true.

"Remember when she missed that wide-open layup last year and threw a hissy-fit on the court?" Jessica said.

"And she was so pissed Coach took her out because of her attitude that she shoved Erika as soon as she got back in!" Paige all but cackled like a witch.

"The ref gave her a technical! Even though it was her own teammate!" Marie gasped, barely able to breath. Giggles spilled through her lips.

"That's nothing," Tye smirked. The team gave him their undivided laughter, still occasionally letting out a laugh every few seconds. "When we were thirteen, she was so pissed when I scored a three on her that she elbowed me in the head on purpose. She didn't think it should have been a foul because we were playing 'no blood, no foul' rules, 'til I point out that there _was _blood. Then she called me a sissy."

Ouch.

"What a bitch!" Lizzie cackled.

Double ouch.

"She only wanted to be a point-guard because she knew that's what I wanted to play," Erika finally said, her voice monotone.

"Yeah, she always picked on you the most," Rachel nodded.

"She…" Erika's voice caught in her throat. "She's the reason I got the courage to ask my dad to work with me. Now he actually calls me during the weekend. I tried so _hard _to be better than her. And now I'll never get to beat her out of that spot."

There was a moment of silence around the room as Erika cried.

"Remember when she bit that girl from Eldridge?" said Michael.

And suddenly, everyone was laughing again. Even Erika. Even me.

"Oh, one time she punched that Henderson Center right in the stomach and totally got away with it!"

"And her flops were so dramatic that the refs almost never called them!"

"Didn't she break our school record for charges? It sure felt like she did!"

"She'd gotten pretty good at threes, but remember when she made her first one? God, she got lucky one time and thought the world revolved around her. Shot as many threes as she could. Missed about all of them!"

"Hey, Coach said I would never get better if I didn't take the shot!" I laughed.

Someone else said as much, otherwise my comment would have fallen on deaf ears.

"But Coach was talking to all of us. _Gwen_ thought he meant just _her_!"

"Self-centered bitch!"

That one had been from me. I was laughing so hard that my sides hurt when it came out.

Laughing still, I said, "When I get my life back, I promise to control my attitude. I won't bite people anymore." This set off another wave of personal laughter. "And I won't give up my position until you take it from me, Erika. Kylie, I'll spread a good rumor about you. I'll compliment you, Candy, when you beat me to the line. I'll pass the ball to you more, Rachel. Tye, I'll elbow myself!"

They didn't need me - they had each other. But I needed them.

They fell asleep laughing together in my living room, limbs tangled together and shoulders used as make-shift pillows.

"Oh, shit," I cursed. "I forgot about the Ordeal. Charon, we have to wake them up!"

Charon grinned at me. "No need, Gwyneth."

* * *

Pluto's office was just as empty as before. Cerberus the three-headed puppy licked my ankles - both of them, simultaneously.

"Congratulations, my dear! I knew you could do it!" The Ruler of the Underworld clapped me on the back. "Let's jump right into the next step - getting your spirit back into your body!"

I breathed a sigh of relief - finally! No more hurdles!

"So I can just walk right into it? You're going to heal me, aren't you, so my soul won't be rejected?"

"Precisely!"

I sighed again.

"There's just a tiny condition you need to fulfill, and then I can do the rest."

Of course there is. I sighed a third time, though this time it was not a sign of relief.

"What condition?"

"Oh, it's nothing to worry about. You just need someone dear to you to act as a conduit between your soul and your body - A bridge, if you will."

I _knew_ there would be some convoluted complication. "Look, I don't know any psychics or whatnot that can perform spiritual rituals."

"No, no, dear. All this person needs to do is kiss you, simple as that. At a specific time, of course, but nothing more than that."

"Ew." I wasn't grossed out by kisses - I was eighteen, for heaven's sake - but the thought of forcing anyone close to me to put their _lips_ on that bloated blue mess of a body... Ew. "Um, why do they need to _kiss_ me?"

"As I said before, the bond between your body and your spirit has been broken by your death. Due to the trauma, your the energy waves are no longer even, and your soul can't return to its home until they are perfectly aligned. After I heal your body, the waves should be a little closer to a match, but there will need to be some sort of outside force that can keep them perfectly in line - a donation of life energy, harmless in such a small amount, will do the trick of sparking you back to life. It can be anyone, really, though a person with high spiritual awareness would be most desirable, and probably a little easier to convince. Oh, and they must be someone very close to you, as I said, because it has to be another soul with which your body is familiar."

"Uh huh..." I pinched my the bridge of my nose at the formation of a headache. Everything with these people was so difficult, for no reason. "And a kiss will get me this life energy?"

"A kiss on the _lips_ will, yes."

Well, I couldn't very well say no, could I?

"Fine. When will you be finished healing my body?"

Pluto leaned closer to me, suddenly very serious. "Listen very carefully, Gwyneth Faye. It will only take me one day to prepare your corpse, but the waves won't match up for another three days. No sooner, no later. If you can't get a kiss at midnight on the third day, you will have to wait until they are aligned again, and trust me when I say you do not want that."

I all but gulped. "How long would that wait be?"

"Well, it depends on the person. But for you, it will be twenty-three years."

Twenty-three years! That wouldn't be getting my life back at all. It was three days, or never.

I nodded.

"Alright. I'll get to work."

* * *

**Thanks for reading! I hope Gwen is finally getting fleshed out!**

**Good news - I see us getting to the Yu Yu Hakusho gang in two chapters, one if I make it a tad longer.**

**So, who do you think will have to kiss Gwen? XD**

**I understand that reading **_**just **_**about an OC can get rather boring. I mean, it's not someone you're already attached to, and it's not a character you already love. But that's why I want to sincerely thank you guys for sticking with me. Thanks so much for the support.**

**~Mao**


	5. My Friends (Try to Save My Life)

**Can you guys tell how pumped I am for this fic!? Two chapters in such a short time! I just really can't wait until we meet the Yu Yu Hakusho guys! Please excuse any possible typos or grammatical errors!**

**Thanks for reading!**

* * *

When we got back into our world, I told Charon to take me straight to Tye.

"He's close to me, he has high spiritual awareness, and frankly, I'd rather _he _kiss me instead of Eydie." I shuddered at the toddler's slobbish habits, which were terrible even for her age.

Tye had spent the night at my house and was still asleep on the chair he shared with Lizzie.

My mum was in the kitchen, awake at the crack of dawn, I'm sure. She was quietly sipping coffee at our island, much like when Dad had first left. To my utter relief, she didn't have that look in her eye. She was just drinking coffee and crying.

'_Good_.'

I tried to ruffle Tye's hair in an attempt to wake him up, but I had little influence on his physical body - much, much less than I'd had with Alison. My fingers barely fluttered his hair.

"I'm actually glad he's still asleep," Charon admitted, hovering over my childhood friends on her scythe, laying across it on her stomach. "Now I can show you a trick." She motioned me closer with a flick of her delicate finger.

I floated closer hesitantly. "What trick?"

"This one."

I gave a yelp when she grinned like the Cheshire Cat and grabbed my wrist, dragging me down. She threw me on top of Tye, but of course, there was no impact.

But I didn't wind up inside the couch like I thought I would have. Instead, I found myself lying on a basketball court. I blinked, the familiar waxy smell hitting my nose, the squeak of shoes assaulting my ears under the roar of a crazy crowd…

I rolled to the right at the last second before a giant crashed on its butt, two seconds away from crushing me. Well, I didn't know what effect he would have had on me in my current ghost form, but I didn't really want to find out. It would be too weird.

I examined the giant a tad more closely - obviously, he wasn't _literally _a giant, but I maybe went up to his hip. He rose up on his giant feet, his motions almost slow. And yeah. My head was level with his upper thigh.

Other giants - though, none quite as big as the first one - shuffled around us, two different colored jerseys indicating their allegiance. I was in the middle of a basketball game. I craned my neck to look at a suddenly familiar giant, fully stretched to a stand.

"Shaquille O'Neal!?"

"Damn," Shaq swore under his breath in his American accent, jogging back to his offensive basket. "Masterson dunked one over me again. How the hell does he keep doing that?"

I was too shocked to get out of the court, so I just stood there with my jaw on the shiny floor. Lebron James jogged past me.

Wait - had Shaq said _Masterson_? I stiffly turned behind me, at the sound of a ball dribbling, in order to get a good look at the player leading his team down the court.

"Alright, Pansies, run a number four defense'," Tye yapped at his team. Kevin Love nodded in response and dashed to get in position.

So, Tye, Tye Masterson, _my _Tye, had just dunked on Shaq and was currently guarding Kobe Bryant. All some of the best American basketball players in the NBA.

Oh, I knew _exactly _where I was.

Tye faked a steal left, dropped back when Kobe made a move, and snagged the ball for himself for real. He dribbled right by me, before suddenly stopping.

"Gwen," he blinked. "Is that you?"

And suddenly we were the only two people on the court. The fan sections went silent, and all camera flashes stopped.

I quirked a corner of my lips. "Nice move, Tye. Too bad you can only do that in a dream."

He flashed a grin. "How'd you make it tonight?" he asked excitedly. "I thought you had your own game in Amsterdam?"

Aw, I was a pro in his dream, too? Realizing from his question, and the fact that he stopped to talk to me in the middle of a game and hadn't noticed hundreds of people suddenly vanishing, that he didn't realize he was dreaming, I thought about my next words a little more carefully.

"Er, it was cancelled. You know, the weather and stuff."

"Oh," he looked down at his feet. "It feels like you've been gone for a long time. I've missed you."

"I've missed you, too," I whispered, trying not to cry. I hadn't been able to produce real tears as a ghost, but it felt like I would be able to in a dream. Something about this form just seemed more human, more mortal than normal. I was on my feet, not floating. It was similar to being in the Underworld.

Tye was so familiar to me - the way he talked, the way he stood there with the ball caught against his lanky arm and his hip - that it hurt. Physically. My heart was burning and my eyes stung.

"Want to play a quick game?" he proposed, passing the ball to me with a bounce. I caught it, squeezing it hard. I hadn't felt something solid in so long, even if this was all my - or Tye's - imagination. I gave a quick nod.

"Let's just stick to half-court," I decided. "I'll take the ball first." I dished the ball back to him, which he returned right away without pause.

"Check."

And we were off. I zigged, backed up, dribbled between the legs, and shot forward again, Tye on me every step of the way. I couldn't get past his defense. But I really couldn't in real life, either. Not often, at least. And he wasn't using his dream abilities to stop me, not even when I jumped and did a fade-away shot. It went in with a whoosh.

I got the ball back on top of the key - we always played 'make it, take it' - and went again. This time, he picked me off. He took it out to the three-point line and shot, sinking a nice, high-arching three.

It went like that for a while, one of us calling the points after every basket. We played to ten, which Tye got to first.

"Ten to six. Nice try, Gwenny," he smirked at me. Normal, normal Tye. I wiped the sweat from my brow, grinning like a maniac. He blinked. "Woah. You're _always _pissed when you lose. What's up?"

I shook my head. "Nothing. I just… I needed that."

Sweating felt good. Running felt good. _Losing _felt good.

My reason for being there in Tye's head suddenly came back to me.

"Listen, Tye," I said seriously. "You remember what _really _happened to me, right?"

"What do you mean? _What's _happened?"

"In three days, you need to do something for me. It's super important."

"Um…"

"You need to get to my body and kiss me. On the lips."

Tye scrunched up his nose. "Um, _ew_. Kiss you?"

I rolled my eyes. "I'm not talking about snogging, here. Just a lip thing. But it has to be on the third day. It can't be before that." I shuddered. "And _especially _not after."

"Sure, Gwen," he dribbled twice and made a jump-shot. "Whatever you say."

I sighed with relief. "Remember Tye. Three days. Kissy kissy. Don't you _dare _forget."

And then I was looking at his groggy face as his woke up. I blinked, suddenly having to get accustomed to my weightless body again.

Charon eagerly placed a hand on my shoulder. "Well? Did you speak with him?"

"Yes," I smiled. Finally, things were going right. I'd finally get my life back. And then I could play Tye for real.

Erika and Lizzie were sitting up, talking about about shampoo brands, before noticing Tye had opened his eyes.

"Wakey, wakey, Sleeping Beauty," Lizzie teased as Tye stretched and yawned. "Have a nice dream about me?"

"You wish," Tye grumbled, his neck popping. "Besides, you know I never remember my dreams."

And just like that, my good mood was gone.

* * *

The next two nights, Lizzie, Tye, Erika, Candy, Rachel, and Paige spent the night at my home. The other's all felt a normal night at their home would help them feel better. I watched gift baskets and flowers come in almost every twenty minutes. People I hadn't seen in five years came by with home-made food. People I had _never _seen came by with tears in their eyes.

It was quite touching. I was just a tad preoccupied with my nerves.

Both of those nights, I jumped from mind to mind, even my Mum's and Eydie's. But either they would forget it when they woke up or brush it off as a strange dream about me caused by the stress of my death. Which caused _me _stress.

I even tried to influence them when they were awake, but since Tye had the highest spiritual awareness of all of them and even he couldn't feel a thing, nothing would work.

I got a chance to visit Helena's again, with my spare time. As Yasmine had predicted, there were police everywhere. And, frustratingly enough, all of those people had trampled over the snow that illustrated the moments prior to my fall. The beer can that had thrown me off of my feet was as flat as paper, half covered in snow. The adder's body was also partially covered in white, but it's dark form was rather easy to see. If you knew to look for it. Well, after my autopsy, the snake bite should give them some incentive.

That last morning, as Mum and the others were eating breakfast - egg bake, brought over by my elderly neighbor - I all but chewed my nails in concern.

"Did you try talking to Calcifer?" Charon asked unhelpfully. It did not go unnoticed how panicked she also was.

"Do you seriously think a _cat _is gonna be able to ask the others to kiss my dead body?" I asked incredulously. "...But yes, I tried visiting Calcifer." The little turd had known I was there, as most animals could, but he hated me so much that all he did was hiss and run away. He almost tripped Lizzie on the stairs.

"No luck?"

"Do you see anyone kissing my corpse in the Morgue?"

She sighed.

"Gwyneth, if we can't-"

Suddenly, the phone rang. Mum hopped up quickly to answer it, glancing at the small army in her living room to make sure none of them had been scared awake.

"Hello?" Mum whispered.

The evil little eavesdropper in me floated next to the phone to listen, despite the disapproving look from Charon.

There was a constable on the other end. "Mrs. Faye?"

"_Ms_. Faye. Yes?"

"Oh, yes. I have the autopsy results here at the station. You can come down now, if you'd like."

Mum glanced once more to the living room. "No, I'd rather you just tell me over the phone."

"Alright, but… are you sure?"

"I am."

"Ms. Faye, there was no foul play detected. Your daughter's death has been ruled a suicide."

Mum dropped the phone. I dropped my jaw.

"I guess they didn't notice the snake bite." Charon shook her head.

"Or the snake," I groaned. Its body was still there, on the support beam. Alison probably hadn't been quick enough to see it bite me. Come to think of it, she hadn't mentioned a snake when she told Roxy and Yasmine what had happened to me. So the police hadn't seen its body.

But even if they found the snake and the bite, that wasn't proof I didn't jump. Yasmine had pointed out as much - It just sounded like I changed my mind mid-fall.

"Ms. Faye?" the disembodied voice called from the swinging tele. "Are you still there?"

Mum dove forward, and for a second I thought I saw that look. But as soon as the phone was back in her hand, it was replaced with fire. Attagirl.

"Suicide _my ass_! Just because there is no foul play doesn't mean she jumped!"

"Well, no, of course not-"

"You didn't know my daughter. She had a Basketball tournament next week, and there is no way in _hell _she would have missed it if she had a choice."

"Ms. Faye, please calm down-"

"No. I want to talk to the witness. Didn't she say Gwen fell by accident?"

"Well, yes, she did, but her account is under investigation and is highly unlikely to be true-"

"Where is she? I want to talk to her."

"She's here at the station. But Ma'am, she's being questioned at the moment."

"Fine. Give me the number of the doctors who performed the autopsy. I'll be at the station in an hour. The interview should be done by then."

She asked Tye to hand her a pen and paper pad. He did so quickly, despite the grogginess in his eyes. He knew what my mum could be like in these moods.

She hung up and called the new number.

"Hello, this is Dr. Goldmen-"

"Who the _hell _do you think you are?"

* * *

Mum told the doctors that she wanted a second autopsy done, and she didn't take no for an answer.

True to her word, she waited an hour before heading off to the station, asking Tye and Erika to babysit Eydie when she finally woke up. Now that I thought about it, the kid probably didn't even know I was dead. How could anything possibly sleep that long?

I was torn between staying home and trying to communicate with Tye or going to the station with my mum.

"Go on," Charon nodded at me. "I'll stay and try to get the boy's attention."

I thanked her, following Mum out of the house and into her car. I sat beside her in the passenger seat.

As she drove, she popped in my favorite Celine Dion CD, blasting _That's the Way it is _ all the way to the station. Both of us screamed the lyrics, uncaring of how untalented we were musically. Mum couldn't really sing, but she had Celine's accent down pat.

We were at the station in five minutes, Mum storming in, almost forgetting to lock the car door.

Inside, I saw Alison in the waiting area, a constable supervising her. Her hair was thrown in a messy bun, her face bare and tired. I was suddenly kind of pissed.

"Hullo, Ms. Faye," the bobby nodded a greeting. It didn't sound anything like the one on the phone.

Mum took Alison's state in. Her eyes roamed over the girl's face and back to the Constable watching her like a hawk. Alison was barely older than me.

"So what's this about not trusting the witness's account?"

"Well, Ma'am, she's under suspicion for illegal activities, including but not limited to the obstruction of justice."

I assumed that was because she had been forced to admit she witnessed my death, but my determined time of death hadn't matched with her call that had reported it.

"Oh, Alison," I sighed miserably. The blue-eyed girl tensed, still able to sense my presence. She flicked her gaze between my mum and the wall - the two things that surrounded me. She knew I was here.

Alison knew I was here. Alison.

I gasped.

I guess I knew who I needed talk to.

* * *

My mum had uncovered a terrible truth - Alison was in custody for 'soliciting sexual favors in a public place'. So while prostitution was technically legal, other aspects of the job really weren't.

Alison had been bested in the interrogation and had spilled the reason behind her hesitance for contacting the police - her job. She would be released with a small bail, sure, but it was one she couldn't pay, and she had no one she could ask.

And Mum threw a cow. She almost made one of the constables cry. I suddenly knew how my seventh year teacher had felt when she gave me a D+ on one of my exams.

We walked out of that station - well, _I _floated - with Alison in tow. Mum had somehow managed to take all the financial burden and had, well, 'gotten her outta there'. She was fuming mad.

The dealings had taken the majority of the day, and it was just about supper time.

"Do you know what those quacks told me? They ruled Gwen's death a suicide. Even with what you told them!"

"Oh," Alison murmured, looking right at me, yet still seeing nothing. She took a turn on the sidewalk, diverging from the path to my mum's car.

"Get in," Mum ordered, not unkindly. Alison paused with a frown, glanced behind her, but ended up sliding in beside my mum. I sat in the back, this time. I noticed Alison constantly glancing at me.

"Er, Ms. Faye, you can just take me home."

"Alright, what's your address."

We arrived at Alison's apartment complex. Mum took one look at its crumbling walls and the man smoking on its porch and kept driving.

"Hey!" Alison yelped, almost falling out of the van when she opened the door to step out.

"You're staying with me for a while. We'll come back to get your clothes later."

Well, Alison couldn't exactly say no now that she was driving almost 30 miles per hour at that point.

So Alison, through no work of my own, was spending the night at my house. Which was even better than what I had been hoping for - just a chance alone with her, wherever that may have been, to figure out a way to get my message to my family and friends.

Now I could just figure out a way to tell Alison about the kiss. But, unlike with Tye and the others, she wouldn't just brush the message off. Because she knew I was here. So that was really _all _I had to do.

When the three of us walked back into my house, I saw Charon sticking her arm through Tye's head as Eydie painted his fingers a light pink. He looked miserable, but not in the way he would have looked if he was constantly thinking about my death.

They all looked up at Alison, who stood awkwardly in the doorway - which had seemed impossible for someone as elegant and confident as her just three days before - and waved.

Eydie had a field day; Alison was so pretty and girly that all the possibilities of dress-ups and make-overs melted her little girl's brain. She all but she all but shrieked and grabbed Alison's hand, leading her to the table.

"Sit here!" she ordered Alison, kicking Tye out of his chair. He seemed to finally notice how gorgeous this newcomer was - and also how uncool his now rose pink nails were - and blushed.

"Oh, I've got the perfect blue for you!" Eydie squealed.

"Eydie," Mum called, placing her coat on a hook. "Don't be rude."

"Oh," the nine-year-old pouted. "Can I paint your nails, please?"

"Sure?" Alison shrugged.

Erika asked Mum what had gone down at the station. The older woman was no less enraged as she had been before as she recounted the events, starting with the phone calls for Alison's sake, and finally mentioning that the girl would be staying with the Faye family until further notice, despite Alison's protests.

"You really don't have to let me stay here-"

"But I'm going to."

"I'll pay rent-"

"Do we look like we need rent?"

So Alison would be sleeping with Eydie in her room, even though mine was empty. Mum just wasn't ready for that yet. She probably wouldn't really mesh well with the pink bedding and purple walls, but the room was spacious enough for a nine-year-old and a nineteen-year-old.

Charon was actually sniffling in her joy. "I thought… I honestly… Well, I wasn't so sure we could've pulled this off for a time there."

"I know," I patted her shoulder gently. Trust me, I _so _knew.

"No, Gwyneth. I've never been worried things wouldn't work out like that before. Not in _my _career. I'm just so _relieved_."

I gave her a hug. For such a rough meeting, Charon and I had gotten rather close. "It's alright, now."

We wasted little time in trying to communicate with Alison. It was so satisfying to finally see some recognition when I pulled on her hair.

But soon we came across a new issue; even though we had her attention, we couldn't find away to relay our oddly specific message. How can one pantomime 'get Tye to kiss my dead body all the way at the morgue'? It wasn't easy.

"I'm afraid we'll have to resort to drastic measures," Charon fretted.

"Knock her out?"

"Knock her out."

* * *

"Okay…" I rubbed my temples as I formulated a rough plan of action.

Suddenly, Erika yelped. "Ouch! Calcifer just attacked my foot!"

"You're bleeding," Rachel laughed.

"That's what you get for stepping on his tail," Eydie stuck her tongue out.

Mum sighed, picking the white fur ball up and lightly tossing him on the couch. "Behave," she said to both the cat and to her youngest daughter.

"Charon," I said excitedly. "Get Calcifer into the basement."

The ferryman blinked. "What? How?"

I was already floating away so quickly that I almost hadn't heard her. "Doesn't matter," I paused for a moment. "Actually, it does. Freak him out. Scare him down there. But don't let him go too far down."

"On it," she zoomed to the living room, on her scythe.

I waited thirty seconds, revealing the rest of my plans to Charon in the other room, and then I yanked on Alison's bun. Hard.

"Ouch!" she cried, getting the attention of everyone at the table. She murmured a, "Sorry," while blushing. I didn't relent. I grabbed her shirt and pulled, leading her to stand up. She sat there for a moment in puzzlement, but eventually rose to her feet and let me pull her. "Er, I'll just be going to the loo."

"Oh, well, there's actually one down that hall," Mum said, pointing back the other direction of the stairs.

I pulled harder, unmistakably to the basement.

"Er, I'd rather go to the basement. There's one down there, yeah?"

Mum nodded, confused. "Um, yeah, but why?"

"Oh, you know-" she nearly stumbled when I gave another strong yank. "It's bad luck to go to the bathroom on the first floor!" Alison gave out a nervous laugh.

Under her breath, she murmured, "Yeah, yeah. I get it. Just stop pulling, will you?"

She turned down the stairs and disappeared from my family's line of sight. The basement's lights were off, making it pitch black.

"Release the Kraken," I whispered.

And suddenly, a streak of white flashed at our feet. And Alison didn't know to look for it.

She stepped on the tail of a panicking Calcifer, who in turn roared like a lion and pounced on her ankles with his claws out. Alison barely had time to gasp before I grabbed the front of her blouse and pulled harder than I ever had. I used all the strength I had left. The poor girl was swept off her feet, falling face-first down the stairs.

She landed at the bottom on her back, but didn't get up.

"I love you, Calcifer!" I sighed in joy.

Charon poked the unconscious Alison on the cheek. "Maybe we over did it a bit." Her face suddenly went white. "What if we killed her? It's not her time yet! Oh, it's _you _all over again!"

I floated over. "She's fine." I remembered her punching the lights out of Yasmine when the brunette had come at her with a knife. That felt like it was ages ago. "She's a tough one."

I entered her dream.

* * *

Alison sat on a throne with a scepter in her hand, an extravagant crown on her head, and a corgi at her feet. Her gown was the most beautiful piece of clothing I'd ever seen - it was _almost _as beautiful as she was.

Alison gasped when she saw me, her eyes flickering to the castle of her mind. And suddenly all of it was gone - the dog, the gown, the crown, the throne, the glass windows - and was replaced by a plain black room with plain black walls. It reminded me of that room in which she had reconvened with Roxy and Yasmine after a long night out. But there was nothing on the walls, nor any furniture on the floor.

Alison stood before me in dull clothes, her face bare of makeup yet full of shame.

"I used to pretend my biological Mum was actually Princess Diana," she murmured, running her hands on her thigh and remembering the gown. "At one time, I even believed it." She shook her head woefully. "But my mum has to be _black_, because my dad was the white one."

She tapped her fingers by her blue eyes, and then on her dark skinned cheek. "You know, I've seen a lot of shit with these eyes. A _lot_. But I... as much as I hate that life, I needed it. I wouldn't have had it otherwise. I _needed_ it, and now it's as good as gone."

I thought back to the police crawling around Helena's. Boy, was that true.

"Talk to my mum," I answered. "She'll be willing to help you."

Her smile was a small and sad one. "Because I confirmed you didn't commit suicide?"

"Because she had a big heart, and so do you. She _really_ likes you."

Alison blinked, but I saw some hope in her blue eyes.

"Look," I cut straight to business. "I can't explain why, but I need you to tell Tye - the dark haired boy - that he, or Lizzie, or Erika need to book it to the morgue, find my body, and kiss it on the lips."

"Kiss a corpse. Sounds lovely."

My lips quirked. "You're telling me. Make sure they do it _tonight_. Before midnight."

"Why?"

"You'll see"

"That's helpful," Alison sighed, her finger finding her temple. "I suppose I'll have a mighty headache when I wake up.

"Yeah, sorry about that. Couldn't think of anything else."

She looked at me. "So you're Gwen, huh?" She stuck out her hand. "Nice to meet you, I guess."

I took it, relishing its tangible warmth.

"Nice to meet you, too, Alison."

* * *

When I found myself back as a ghost, the entire household was surrounding a barely roused Alison, apparently having rushed down the stairs at the sound of her tumble.

Mum rubbed her shoulders as she slowly sat up. "Just relax, dear, take it slow. Candy is calling an ambulance."

"No, no, I'm fine." Alison assured her. "No need to call anyone."

Mum protested for a long while, even after Alison made her way back up the stairs and back to the kitchen table. "Don't worry about it, really. I feel perfectly fine." She motioned to the half-full dinner plates. "Our food's getting cold!"

And when Erika sat down next to her, Alison immediately leaned over and whispered something in her ear.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Tye, Lizzie, and Erika were facing a serious Alison in the basement. It was just those four - plus Charon and me. Rachel, Paige, and Candy had all decided to finally go home, and Eydie was puckered out.

"You don't have to believe me, but that's what I saw. And frankly, we've three hours until midnight, We don't have all day to make up our minds."

Lizzie was crying. "I believe you. I saw her, too. But I just thought it was a dream."

Erika shook her head. "This is crazy. _You're _all crazy." She started up the stairs. She paused and looked back when no one followed her. "C'mon! We have to hurry. The hospital is thirty minutes away, and we still have to follow traffic laws."

Tye silently followed them up the stairs, shaking his head. I think he was getting glimpses of his dreams, slightly recalling one of our thousands of games that may not have been in as conventional a setting as the others.

Lizzie fibbed to my mum when she asked to borrow the car, claiming they wanted to go see me one last time by themselves before the wake, but didn't mention the dreams or the kiss. As they piled into the vehicle, Lizzie in the driver's seat, Tye beside her, and Erika and Alison in the back, the redhead explained that she didn't want to upset her with ghost stories.

"I mean, _I _believe, but that doesn't mean we should get the poor woman's hopes up."

Lizzie drove like a madwoman, almost missing one of her turns, but more or less got the four of them to the hospital in one piece. There wasn't a parking spot, which was rather strange, so Lizzie dropped the other three off at the door and sped away to find somewhere. Tye, Alison, and Erika booked it, only letting up on their sprint when the were inside the hospital doors. When they asked the receptionist for directions to the basement, they ran into a rather large issue.

"I'm sorry, but everything under the first level is off limits to anyone without an invitation. And even those are limited to regular visiting hours."

"But this is really important," Tye protested. "We know someone down there!"

"Really, I am sorry. But I can't let you go."

"How about a staff member chaperones us?"

"We don't really have anyone to spare. The snow is causing a lot of accidents. We're always busy this time of year."

Well, that would explain why there wasn't much parking.

"If you want, I can try to set something up in a couple of days. I could maybe get you in tomorrow, even."

"No, thanks."

The three broke away and hid behind the corner of the hallway so the receptionist woman couldn't see them plotting.

"What do we do now?" Erika fretted. 'Shy' didn't mesh well with her. She played with her platinum blonde hair in its pony, a nervous tick of hers. She did it every time our team was down at halftime.

"If we just figure out how to get there, we don't really have to tell anyone _at all _that we're going down to the morgue. It's not like they'll ever know if we don't steal anything," Tye reasoned.

"I think I see some doors behind those desks," Alison pointed, peering back behind the receptionist. Down the hall, and further still, two wide doors stared at them eerily. "I've got a bad vibe coming from there. I think there are a lot of spirits trapped behind those doors."

I'd nearly forgotten that Alison could communicate with more ghosts than just me. It was kind of creepy, now that I thought about it.

"Damn," Erika swore. "We should never have talked to that lady. Now she knows where we want to be. There's no way she would just let us waltz past her." She bit her lip. "Okay. How about I distract her, you two slip by, Tye snogs with Gwen's body, you slip out, and off we go?"

"It'll have to do," Alison sighed, checking the time on her phone. "We've just over two hours before midnight. We should have _some _time to search for her body, but we have to hurry."

"Alright, break," Erika chanted, mimicking a circle tradition of basketball teams. She walked right up to the desk and opened her mouth, for whatever reason she had chosen.

Just then, the outside door opened and Lizzie jogged in. "Erika, did they find-"

"Oh, dear! Lizzie? You look terrible!" Erika wailed, catching more than a few ears.

Lizzie stopped in her tracks, puzzled. "Huh?"

"You look just plain _miserable_!" Erika closed the distance between them, placing her hand on Lizzie's forehead like a mother would. Her other arm snaked around her side.

Lizzie didn't seem to catch on. "What do you mean? I feel-"

Erika sunk her fist into the redhead's gut, bracing her as she collapsed, gasping for the wind that had just been knocked out of her lungs.

"Oh, Lizzie! What in the world is wrong with you? Can we get a doctor over here?"

"Yes," Lizzie wheezed, finally catching on a tad too late. "A doctor, please?"

The receptionist jumped out of her seat and hustled to their side on the hospital floor. Erika shot a risky glance at Tye and Alison, and the two slunk as quietly as possible past the desk. They then shifted straighter to act a tad more normal as they past the other workers at computers. No one paid them any mind, and they cracked open the doors and slid inside.

Charon and I were right at their heels, unhindered in our spiritual manifestations.

The doors led straight to a series of ramps, which made sense, because carrying gurneys with dead bodies on them wouldn't work too well with stairs.

Alison and Tye were full on sprinting down the ramps. I'm surprised they weren't making themselves dizzy.

Let me just get this out of the way: morgues are creepy. Period. The lights aren't low, like one would imagine, and they were actually quite blinding, but the emptiness of silence in the echoey halls did little favors for the atmosphere. I wondered what Alison could sense - how many ghosts were down here? Would I see any?

There were a lot of rooms, maybe five each side. And in each room, there were a lot _more _drawers, or rather, morgue refrigerators. I suddenly wondered if two hours would be enough time for just two people to sift through it all.

"What do we do?" Tye asked. I could see his breath in the low temperatures.

"Split up," Alison devised. "I'll do a quick run through down the hallways in case I find something obvious. You start in that first room and look for some sort of fileing pattern. We don't want to waste our time checking every drawer if they store the bodies in alphabetical order or something."

Tye flung open that first door and dove inside while Alison took off down the hall, slamming each door open, and then moving on. She was three from the end we I saw her gasp and then duck behind the wall. She peeked once more over her shoulder before slipping back to Tye, who had barely made a dent in the drawers.

"I think they go by time of death, but Gwen didn't die here at the hospital. So we should check her passing time and her arrival time."

"Doesn't matter," Alison whispered. "I found her."

* * *

What Alison had walked in on, I discovered moments after Tye had, was a man cutting my corpse open from my neck to my navel.

"The second autopsy," I realized. I hadn't even thought about that. Mum had demanded one this morning. So the man must have been Dr. Goldmen. What timing he had.

"Gwyneth," Charon warned. "Lord Pluto can't heal your body until he's finished with the examination. Who _knows _how long that could take?"

"What can we do? We can't scare him off because he needs to close that gaping hole in my torso or the kiss won't work."

Charon chewed her immaculate nails. "I really don't know. I…"

"Tye," Alison whispered from behind Dr. Goldmen's door. "Text Ms. Faye for that doctor's number."

Alison! You genius deviant, you! I love you!

Tye did so, but Mum sure took her sweet time replying. About twenty minutes had passed when Tye's phone lit up again. He punched the number in, moved further down the hallway so his voice would be heard directly, and hit the call button.

A phone went off on the other side of the doors.

Dr. Goldmen, and elderly fellow with only a small amount of hair over his ears, tore off his gloves to answer.

"Hullo?"

"Yes, Dr. Goldmen?" Tye artificially deepened his voice.

"Speaking."

"I'm William Faye. I just got into town. I'm… I'm Gwen's father."

Tye's impression of my dad was spot on, from what I remember. It had been almost nine years since either Tye or I had heard him speak, but he was a regular man if there was one. No fancy habits, no unique quirks to worry about.

"I've been speaking with my Ex-wife. She asked for a second autopsy?"

"She did. We made sure to place it at the top of the priority list."

And now you were doing it at the worst time possible. Uh! Why did he have to be so punctual?

"Well, she and I were speaking, as I've said, and I've managed to talk her down. Another autopsy won't be necessary. In fact, we want to cancel it immediately."

"Sir, I'm afraid that the procedure has already commenced-"

"Listen to me. I want you to shut it down this _instant _and close her up right now."

"But-"

"And I'm not taking no for an answer!" Tye hung up with a flourish.

I heard the good doctor grumble, "Definitely the same family," from behind the door.

And then he started stitching me back together. Alison monitored from the small window on the door, giving Tye a thumbs up. We only had an hour and a half left. Boy, were we cutting it close.

But as I floated there, over Alison, Charon next to me, Tye grinning like a maniac, I began to think of all the people who got me here.

Those people who sent over flowers and food, Coach who took care of Mum when my dad hadn't come home, my team who helped me pass my Ordeal. Lizzie, who always believed in me, even if it was a dream. Erika, who I thought had hated me, but really just knew me so well that we were more like sisters, and sisters get on each other's nerves. Alison, who proved time and time again to be a better person than I was, to try so hard to save a girl she barely knew. Tye, who was about to kiss a formerly flayed open corpse, who knew it was important, with no explanation as to why. Eydie, who loved life. Mum, who loved _me_.

And I would get them all back, _thanks _to them.

And then Dr. Goldmen made a mistake. By fixing his past one.

"What the... Is that a snake bite?"

* * *

I didn't blame Dr. Goldmen. He was just a good doctor doing his job well. I didn't blame Tye for forgetting his dream that first night. I didn't blame my Mum for requesting that second autopsy. I didn't blame my dad for not answering his phone when mum called again and again to tell him I was gone.

I didn't blame Calcifer, either, or that snake, crushed and dead and hidden under a foot of snow by now.

Dr. Goldmen called up his superior immediately after discovering the Adder bite, requesting permission to continue the autopsy despite what my 'dad' had just said. The superior suggested recalling the family with this new development and asking that they reconsider. Of course, they called Mum, the only number they had in my personal contact files, who told them my dad had, in fact, _not _come home at all and she still wanted the autopsy. So Dr. Goldmen undid all of the stitching he had just completed and continued on with the procedure. They decided to deal with the prank call afterwards.

Alison had slumped onto the ground, her hand over her mouth. She looked defeated, and I didn't like it. Alison was too _good _to ever lose, in any aspect.

Angry tears reluctantly rolled down Tye's cheeks.

They huddled there and waited. An hour passed. They regularly checked their phones. Lizzie texted Tye at one point to ask what had happened - she had been treated and sent on her merry way with an ice pack. Tye told her what the hold-up was.

Twenty minutes passed. Ten were remaining.

Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Five. Four. Three.

"There are only two minutes until midnight," Alison murmured, unable to look Tye in the eye.

Tye shook his head, his tears long dried. Standing, his knees popping from being on the ground so long, he pushed the doors open slowly. Alison didn't stop him.

The doctor looked up in shock. "What are you doing? No one is allowed down here!"

But Tye walked straight up to my body, barely phased by its condition, or maybe completely phased. Maybe that's why he could do this.

He leaned over and planted his lips on mine. Ten seconds.

"Son? That's- I'm not so sure you should be doing that."

Twenty. Tye was stock still, his eyes closed gently.

Thirty.

"It's hard. I know it is," said the doctor. "I lost my wife five years ago. But there comes a time when you have to let them go."

Forty.

"Let her go."

A minute.

Tye unbent his spine and turned to look at the doctor. "Thanks. And please don't tell anyone."

And then he left, Alison hugging him to her side as they walked back up the ramps they had sprinted down not so long ago with mountains of hope. For what, they hadn't known.

And they never would.

* * *

Charon was sobbing uncontrollably as she flew me back to the Underworld. In no time at all, I was in Pluto's office again.

However, I had been shoved off to the corner, Cerberus in my arms - finally, an animal that didn't hate me! - as Charon whispered a heated discussion with the Lord of the Underworld.

Suddenly Charon stomped toward me, fire in her eyes. She grabbed my wrist and dragged me in front of Pluto. He looked tired, his suave demeanor cracking.

"Gwyneth Faye," he rubbed his eyes. "Because _Charon _here claims you've been dealt an unfair hand in your decided fate, I've been given… _incentive _to do what I can to fix your life."

I didn't perk up with hope like I would have yesterday. Instead, I gave a small, sad smile.

Charon sobbed loudly beside me. But I seriously doubted I could get my life back simply because Dr. Goldmen's autopsy had been 'unfair'. It was a child's argument. It was a loser's argument.

"Gwyneth, have you ever heard of the _animus_?"

* * *

**Hey guys! Wow, tough chapter! It was a little gruesome! It also had me wondering how Yusuke's body stayed normalish and not rotty-ish when his mom stored it in his room and what not. Uh.**

**So, yeah. They didn't make it in time. Poor Gwen. Poor Tye. Please let me know what you think! What kind of person - or, ghost, really - do you think Gwen is now? **

**Honestly, my favorite part of this chapter was writing the co-op mission of Gwen's friends in the hospital. It felt kind of nice that Gwen could just sit back and observe and let her friends handle it all. I felt like I was writing in third person.**

**And props to badass Alison - she's one of my favorites. I've also grown to love Erika, which I did not see happening. **

**I would like to just confirm that, as close as they were, Tye and Gwen were just friends and have no romantic feelings for each other. I actually almost thought of making Lizzie the one to kiss her, but after fleshing out the characters a little more, I think that as her neighbor, Tye was her closest friend. **

**But it doesn't look like this misadventure is over quite yet!**

**We'll either meet Yusuke this next chapter, or depending on where I end, the one after that. But Yusuke might not even be the first canon character we meet, so who knows what will happened in between that. ;)**

**Anyway, thank you SO much for reading. You have no idea how much it means to me. Please tell me what you think! **


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